The Escort
by kurtofsky4eva
Summary: Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM. Rated M for content and language. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

By Kurtofsky4eva

* * *

**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM. Rated M for content and language.

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

* * *

Kurt smiled at his reflection. He was almost unrecognizable. He got up from his dressing table and stalked over to the large antique cheval mirror and stared at himself.

Tonight was the governor's masquerade ball and his client for the evening had invited him along. Kurt tried to suppress the excitement that made his blood fizz like the finest champagne. It wasn't that he had never been to a masked event before; no, this was the first time he would be attending one in cross-dress.

He was seriously into costumes and cross-dressing, having been known to rock a skirt or two when he was in high school. He knew he had the legs to pull off short skirts but growing up in a narrow society like Lima's hadn't allowed him much opportunity to express his feminine side.

Now, though, having lived in New York for the past eight years, he had been able to give free reign to his inner diva. There were photos in the archives of magazines, both online and print, of him at various events over the years, resplendent in anything from a Marie Antoinette ball gown to Dorothy's gingham dress, complete with the ruby-red shoes. He had fun just being himself and after finding himself being recruited to the famous Arena Agency, he thought himself extremely lucky indeed.

Kurt couldn't deny that he was the most turned on when he was wearing female costumes or clothes. He had one particular client, a famous billionaire who was very married but was also well-known for his love of beautiful boys who absolutely enjoyed this about Kurt. Mr. M. always wanted him in female attire when they 'played' and the sex was always explosive when they met up.

Kurt grinned at the 'girl' in the mirror; he had let his thick hair grow so that it was in a longish pixie cut with long bangs he'd thinned out for a wispy, delicate look. They framed his unusual eyes and the back was allowed to curl a bit to soften his jawline. He wore a bit of silvery eye shadow, navy blue eyeliner on his lower lids and mascara on the top that extended his lashes a bit. His lips were stained a delicate pink that matched the natural color in his cheeks. He looked like a doll as he allowed his lips to curve in satisfaction.

He took his own sweet time slipping into the black leather dominatrix outfit with its silver-studded collar. His neck was one of his main assets, he always thought, so he played it up, admiring the way the glossy black leather contrasted with his pale, creamy skin. The matching corset cinched his waist tightly but the interesting thing about it was that, in the front it stopped in a double-v just below his navel. The back of it, however, flowed all the way to the floor in waves of shiny black vinyl and he loved the way it looked when he turned swiftly. His lower half was clad in tight, shiny black leather, resting just below his hipbones in a way that would draw every eye in the room tonight. The leggings went down into knee-high boots that had small silver buckles at the back, just right above the stiletto heels.

He had matching gloves that went all the way up his arms to his biceps but left his long fingers bare; the nails were painted black with a metallic stripe. All in all, he was pretty well-covered but for his shoulders and back and they would be covered by the black, militaristic Belstaff coat that was lying on the couch waiting for his departure.

He was an androgynous wet dream and he loved it!

Finally satisfied about every aspect of his appearance, Kurt gathered his coat and strutted out of his apartment. Having the penthouse suite in one of Manhattan's finest buildings was a perk he had not expected when he became Arena's leading escort. Fleeting thoughts of his high school dream of being on Broadway no longer brought the twinge of pain they used to. His life was so interesting and so different from what he'd expected that he didn't have time to really dwell on the past and 'what might have been'.

He nodded to the doorman of his building and stepped out, wrapping his coat about him and strode across the pavement to the waiting limousine. His 'date' for the evening would already be in the back seat, he knew and he nodded politely to the chauffeur as the man held the door for him.

Kurt slid into the back of the expensive-smelling vehicle and allowed a coy smile to flirt with his lips. His partner slid a hand onto one of his knees and then pressed his nose between the collar of Kurt's coat and his neck.

"How are you, ma belle? You look delicious tonight," the deep voice breathed against Kurt's neck and he repressed a shiver but let a smile come through in his voice.

"I am well, Your Highness, and you?" He never failed to use this man's title but the way he said it in his soft purring voice almost always turned the man on. Who would have thought that, having been made fun of almost all his life for his feminine voice, a time would come when he would be paid handsomely for its effect on people.

The hand on his knee tightened before sliding up his muscular thigh and coming to a stop on his hip. His Highness Prince Fayed, a scion of one of the Middle East's oil-rich families, was a very hands-on man although he was gentle with it. Kurt smiled as he settled back, enjoying the attentions of the handsome, dark-skinned man who was dressed tonight like a certain British double-O spy. Would anyone really have thought the man would turn up dressed like a dessert sheikh?

They chatted desultorily as the heavily-armored vehicle made its way towards the site of the evening's entertainment. Eventually they joined the long line of vehicles waiting to pull up before the red carpet cascading down the numerous marble steps to disgorge their privileged passengers. Paparazzi lined the sidewalks, every one of them hoping to get the best photos of the night. Kurt shook his head as he relaxed, knowing that once again, come the morning, his features would be plastered all over the tabloids.

Finally, it was their turn and once again the chauffeur was holding the door open for them, Kurt sliding out first and twitching his coat in place so as to cover his costume. Prince Fayed stepped nimbly out and then took Kurt's elbow although Kurt had a good few inches on him in height. Old-world courtesy seemed to be ingrained in Fayed and his ilk because they all seemed to treat Kurt as if he were an honorary girl. Well, who could blame them with Kurt looking like a cross between a dominatrix and a Japanese anime character?

Inside, the noise was terrific; guests milled about, some already with champagne glasses attached to their hands. Kurt looked about with his usual serene expression, his eyes glittering like gems in the overhead light. Prince Fayed puffed himself up as he helped Kurt remove his coat and hand it to the coat-check staff. He drew in a breath when he took in the entirety of Kurt's costume and he ran a hand up Kurt's half-naked naked back.

"You look magnificent, my dear, absolutely stunning."

Kurt turned to him, not minding the hand on his skin and smiled at Fayed. "Thank you; I hope you don't think it's too daring…" and he lowered his lashes, knowing how the gesture affected the other man.

Fayed's eyes roved admiringly over the gleaming skin of Kurt's shoulders and stopped at where the corset covered his chest, pressing the flesh tightly together in such a way as to give the illusion of small breasts. He took a deep breath, barely restraining himself from pressing a kiss against the soft skin and then slipped a hand to small of Kurt's back to usher him forward into the huge room.

"Come, I want to greet our hosts and then get on with the drinking," he smiled at Kurt, enjoying the beauty that was his for tonight.

Kurt nodded and allowed Fayed to lead him over to the front of the room where the city's premier couple was holding court. Kurt knew that eyes were turning towards him and his partner; he had no doubt that most of them were eyeing his outrageous costume rather than paying attention to the prince beside him.

He shortened his stride to accommodate Fayed's slightly shorter legs and the result was that he seemed to sway as he walked. That, too, was thanks in part to the stiletto heels of his boots and he enjoyed the way the flowing skirt swirled around his legs as he walked. This might not be Broadway but Kurt Hummel was definitely center stage tonight.

Fayed reached the couple, the Beekermans, who happened to own nearly a third of the city and he introduced Kurt to them, smiling proudly. He knew he had the most intriguing person in the room on his arm and he watched the older couple intently for their reaction to Kurt's stunning appearance.

Irene Marchison Beekerman held out her hand to Kurt in such a way that he wondered if he should kiss it but he simply held it firmly, murmured how happy he was to be here and smiled into her eyes. The washed out blue eyes smiled kindly at him as she welcomed him to the gala.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear," the snow-haired doyenne said now as she swiftly took Kurt's measure. She had been around a long time and she sensed that Kurt was no ordinary guest of the prince's. "This is my husband, Harold…" and she glanced quickly from Kurt to the stout man beside her.

Kurt released her hand and held his out to the other man, smiling inwardly as the man's wide eyes crawled from the top of his head to the tip of his pointy boots. The poor man's cheeks reddened as he stared at Kurt's chest and everyone could see he was wondering what exactly Kurt was. The fact that Kurt sounded like a girl didn't help matters at all. Unfortunately, he still wasn't enlightened even after Kurt murmured a soft, lilting, "I'm pleased to meet you."

Fayed nodded to the elderly couple and then moved along so the next couple could be introduced and he snagged Kurt's elbow while pointing to a passing waiter with a tray of filled champagne glasses. He took a glass and handed it to Kurt before taking one for himself, still holding Kurt's elbow as if he thought he would float away.

As Kurt sipped the cool, delicately fizzy wine, he looked about the room, nodding every now and then to whomever he recognized. Fayed led him over to one of the many love seats dotted around the room and Kurt sat, crossing his long legs in such a way that Fayed's fingers itched to stroke them.

"You know," he said to Kurt, leaning in to whisper intimately, "you really are too tempting… much too tempting."

Kurt hid his smile behind his wine glass while his eyes roved around the room, catching several couple's attention but sliding over them. He answered Fayed softly, his voice flirtatious. "We could have stayed in tonight, Your Highness. You know I would have loved that."

He leaned back slightly and turned his attention on his partner as he said the last bit; Fayed's eyes darkened and dropped to Kurt's mouth. No one watching them would have any doubt what was in the prince's mind and Kurt's cheeks pinked at that thought. He had a kink for voyeurism and the thought of all these people knowing what he and the prince would likely get up to later turned him on a lot.

Fayed chuckled and stroked one long finger down Kurt's warm cheek and when Kurt's lashes lowered he drew in a deep breath. "This is going to be a long night, isn't it?" The humor in his voice dampened some of the tension that had started rising and Kurt smiled back at him.

He uncrossed his legs and then, just to be perverse, crossed them again the other way and grinned as Fayed's eyes followed the movement. He took a sip of his wine and then looked around the room again. He wondered if there would be any of his former clients attending tonight and just as he thought that, his eyes landed on a beautiful blonde across the room.

She was a movie actress who had been invited to perform on Broadway the year before and had met up with Kurt at a party, a mixer as his boss liked to call it. The famous, the rich, the beautiful – all these people routinely received invitations to Arena's famous parties and that was where they had met. What many people didn't know was that she and Kurt had been high school friends.

Brittany S. Pierce was as famous in Hollywood for her movies as she was for her bisexuality. When she had met up with Kurt at the party, they hadn't made it known, for whatever reason, that they were old friends. What she'd been obvious about, though, was the fact that she wanted Kurt and she'd paid Arena heftily for the privilege of spending the weekend with him.

He and Brittany had, between bouts of some of the kinkiest sex he'd ever indulged in, spent a lot of time reminiscing about McKinley High and the friends they had lost touch with. It was almost like having sex with a best friend; not that he'd ever thought of having sex with Mercedes Jones. He and Brittany had enjoyed each other's body and company thoroughly and he had only the fondest memories of their time together.

She had wanted to know how Kurt had come to be in that line of business and he had answered without shame or regret.

"Breaking into Broadway isn't easy, sweetie." They had been lounging on his massive couch together, eating ice cream and staring out at the Manhattan skyline. It helped that his penthouse was in a building that didn't have any others as tall nearby. They were both naked, having just romped exhaustively and now they were building their strength up for another round.

"I tried so hard for such a long time and – maybe it's my voice, my looks – I just couldn't seem to catch a break. Rachel got an off-off-Broadway gig fairly early but I," he looked away, the spoon hovering over the container of rum-raisin ice cream, "I just got tired of being turned down."

Brittany leaned over to run a soft hand down his leg and murmured, "But how did you get with Arena?"

Kurt giggled and resumed eating, licking the spoon before continuing. "Well, I got in with this crazy crowd in Chelsea that was into cross-dressing, costumes, crazy stuff. They would have these parties and at one of them, the owner of Arena saw me and gave me a card. I never looked back after that."

Brittany smiled with him, genuinely happy that he was okay with his occupation. She tilted her head as she dug into the last of her strawberry ice cream. "Did you ever tell your dad what you do? I know my parents think I'm going to burn in hell for doing movies with sex in them… and it's not even porn!"

They laughed together but he nodded. "Yeah, my dad knows. Not that he's happy about it but he sees that I'm okay with it. Finn, though, uh," and he rolled his eyes at the thought of his stepbrother's disapproval.

She looked at him, frowning in that slightly ditzy way she had. "Why would Finn have a problem?"

He looked at her and rolled his eyes. "You know Finn; he's afraid some guy is going to take advantage of me and I'll end up in the sex slave traffic."

Brittany nodded, her eyes wide as she agreed. "Yeah, that's the same thing my mother said! Santana doesn't like the fact that I'm acting but she just doesn't understand I'm not smart like her. Do you know she wants us to get married?"

Kurt's eyes grew big and then he laughed. "Wow, she's that serious! Well, why aren't you sporting a huge diamond or something? I thought you two were 'forever' serious."

Brittany put aside the ice cream container and pulled her legs up so she could rest her chin on her knees, uncaring of the fact that Kurt could see her crotch. After all, he'd just been making good use of it and they weren't prudish with each other.

"I-I don't want to settle down just yet, y'know," she said softly. "If I married her, I couldn't get to do stuff like this," and she indicated Kurt with a tilt of her chin. "I would want it to be just me and her and I'm not ready yet, that's all."

Kurt nodded, only partly understanding. If he were in love with someone, he wouldn't care about not having sex with other people. He was a romantic that way. He knew that when he fell in love, his partner would be the only person he wanted. He'd thought he was in love once before but he had only wound up embarrassing himself. The fact that he later discovered he was bisexual – a situation he had not fully understood until he'd got to New York – confused and muddied everything.

He ran his hands up Brittany's legs and then pulled her towards him. He meant only to comfort her but she turned her face up to him and soon they were kissing voraciously. Brittany never did anything by halves and after she'd confessed to Kurt at the party that she'd always wanted to go all the way with him, they had indulged themselves fully.

Her soft hand had gone to his rapidly hardening prick and when he moaned deeply into her mouth, she slid down on the couch, stretching beneath him and lifting her legs to wrap around his hips. He'd slid into her hot, wet depth and pounded away any lingering melancholy, groaning as she slid one long finger into him. Their mouths dueled and she dominated the kiss even as he plunged into her and when she came, screaming, he slammed into her, emptying himself as he moaned into her throat.

They came down from their high, his head against her chest and one hand toying with a tight pink nipple. He raised his head, licked it and then looked at her.

"Are you going to tell Santana about this, us?" He wasn't really worried but he wouldn't want to be the one to come between her and her 'forever' love. She shook her head though.

"No, I'd only tell her if I fell in love with you."

They looked at each other and grinned, knowing somehow that that would never happen and then they got up, showered together and went out to eat. That night, they made love again and by Monday morning, she was back on a flight to L.A. and Santana.

Now he looked at her across the room and grinned happily. Brittany looked beautiful, glowing with a healthy tan that was sexy and just plain alluring. Her white dress plunged all the way down the back to the cleft of her ass and she had a long white boa; her Marilyn look was spot on. As he watched, he saw when she noticed him and squealed. She excused herself from her group of admirers and made her way across the room.

Kurt, turning to Fayed, simply said, "Brace yourself," and got to his feet. He placed his champagne glass on a small table and waited. Sure enough, Brittany threw herself into Kurt's arms and attached her mouth to his.

Fayed, who had risen beside Kurt, stared with his eyes wide and his mouth almost agape. The beautiful blonde who he thought he recognized as a movie star, was kissing his partner thirstily and Kurt was returning the kiss completely.

Several pairs of eyes watched the kissing couple and no doubt, to some, it looked as if two women were engaged in a very amorous greeting. Finally, Brittany pulled back and yelled, "Kurtie, I missed you!" and then flung her arms around him again. It was then that she realized Kurt hadn't been alone and she pulled back, murmuring, "whoops!"

Kurt, keeping one arm around her waist and just above the dip of the scandalous frock, introduced her to Fayed. "Your Highness, may I present Ms. Brittany S. Pierce, a long-time friend?"

Fayed hauled on his debonair persona and grasped Brittany's hand, bringing it to his lips, all the while eyeing her spectacular cleavage. "Enchanté, mademoiselle." Her eyes looked a little glazed as the handsome man brushed his lips across the back of her hand.

She looked at Kurt and asked, in a very Brittany manner, "Prince of what?"

Kurt and Fayed laughed and as a waiter was passing, the prince retrieved a glass of champagne for her and they stood chatting for a while. Kurt glanced around the room, noting that they were the center of attention again. He realized he still had one hand on Brittany's waist but he didn't care; if Fayed didn't mind, he wouldn't.

He tuned in back to the conversation when Brittany turned to him and said, "Oh, Kurt, guess who is in town with me?"

Kurt looked at her blankly. Clearly it would have to be someone they both knew but he just couldn't think who. He raised an eyebrow and when she grinned impishly at him, he rolled his eyes. Oh, no, she was in a playful mood, so he braced himself.

"I can't imagine, sweetie; is it one of the 'old gang'?"

"Uh huh, I know you won't be able to guess," she said in a sing-song voice. Fayed looked between the two and Kurt shook his head apologetically. She finally sighed and said, "He's been lying low for a while and he's been writing for a long time."

Kurt frowned at her, pursing his soft pink lips and she flicked one end of her white feather boa at him.

White noise covered the sound of Brittany's voice yet, from the shape of her lips, Kurt recognized the name. Memories – one in particular – came rushing back and he paled and then colored furiously.

Kurt looked at Brittany blankly as he felt the heat moving up his neck and into his cheeks.

Fayed stared at Kurt with a sinking feeling; this did not bode well for him at all.

Brittany, oblivious to Kurt's distress, laughed, throwing back her head and several of the guests turned to gaze at her admiringly. Her unsupported breasts jiggled and many present thoroughly enjoyed the view. Kurt, however, was staring at Fayed with an unreadable look in his eyes.

Brittany sobered abruptly as she realized Kurt wasn't responding the way she'd thought he would.

"Kurtie, what? I thought you were friends? He's_"

Kurt glanced about the room, trying to regain his composure and then he looked at Fayed apologetically. "Your Highness, could you excuse me? I-I, um, I'll be right back."

Brittany and Fayed watched Kurt hurry towards the nearest exit, stunned.

Outside the overheated room, Kurt looked around for the restroom and spying the red-lit sign, hurried towards it.

As he neared the doors however, he heard the one voice he'd hoped never to hear again.

"Kurt?"

.

**TBC**

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**Well, folks, I hope this has intrigued you enough to keep reading and to send a few reviews my way. Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Escort**

**Chapter Two**

By Kurtofsky4eva

* * *

**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM. Rated M for content and language.

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

* * *

"Kurt?"

He watched as Kurt's back stiffened and he felt his heart stutter. Kurt turned to him and he couldn't help but let his gaze wash over him. Kurt had always been cute in a girly way but now he was simply stunning.

The dominatrix costume was beautiful on him, giving Kurt a mysterious yet regal air. His eyes dropped down Kurt's long legs and he felt a stirring in his groin; surprisingly, he hadn't felt that in a long while. He stepped forward, smiling and reached for Kurt's hand but stopped when Kurt took a step back from him.

Kurt's eyes were wide as they stared at him, his cheeks flushed and his mouth working as if he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out. Suddenly he spun back around and dashed towards the men's room, his voice coming faintly, "I'm sorry."

Suddenly Brittany was there beside him and as she looked at him with big, confused eyes, he could only shrug and indicate the restroom. "He went in there," he said unnecessarily, hoping that the hurt that clogged his throat wasn't obvious.

He hadn't seen Kurt in years; he'd heard of some of his activities but they hadn't spoken since the post-graduation party at Rachel's home. Now he wondered if, even after all this time, Kurt hadn't forgiven him for his cowardice.

Inside the washroom, Kurt stared at himself and wished he could just disappear and reappear in his apartment. He didn't want to go back outside and face everybody after his melodramatic exit. He wet some paper and held it to his face, careful not to smudge his eye makeup and berated himself softly. "You idiot," he muttered and cringed inwardly at his behavior. "Pull yourself together and stop acting like a 12-year-old!"

The door burst open and Brittany stepped in, concern warping her pretty face. "Kurtie, baby, I'm sorry!"

She surged towards Kurt, wrapping her long arms around him and snuggling her face onto his shoulder. Kurt brought a hand up to pat her, murmuring, "It's okay, I'm the one who's sorry. It's okay, Britt."

"Did something happen between you guys? I didn't know, Kurtie; do you believe me?"

Kurt nodded as he stared at their reflection. Brittany turned her head so that she was watching, too, and then she kissed his cheek softly, apologetically. They stood there for a while and then Kurt stirred, patting her hand and moving away. He dredged up a smile and looked at her.

"Okay, I'm done behaving like a wimp, let's go." He held the door open for her and after she looked at herself quickly to see if everything was in place, she preceded him from the restroom. Outside, the two men waited for them and Kurt took a deep breath.

He looked at Fayed first and said in a calm, clear voice: "Your Highness, may I introduce…"

_Flashback – eight years ago_

"Come on, let's get inside before Finn eats everything in sight!"

There was laughter all around as everyone headed down to the Berrys' basement where Rachel had inveigled her dads to let her have their post-graduation party.

The room was decorated with mementoes of their past four years in high school. A bar was set up with lots of sodas and other more adult beverages that the parents didn't know about, of course. A table was loaded with lots of platters with finger foods suitable to both vegetarians and non-vegetarians along with the usual calorie-laden snacks that teenagers loved.

The mood was festive, almost bacchanalian and Kurt looked around at the smiling, laughing faces and knew he would miss them. Rachel was hugging Quinn, strangely enough while over on another couch, Brittany and Santana were sucking face. Mike and Tina were slow-dancing and over in one corner, Sam and Mercedes were talking intently.

Kurt looked for a seat after filling a small plate with snacks and, with his cup held gingerly, had found one near to where Artie, Finn, Puck and Dave Karofsky were arguing about, wait for it, video games. Kurt rolled his eyes as he listened. Suddenly, more upbeat music blared from the hidden speakers and Britt grabbed Santana to dance. Kurt would dance later, he knew, as his girls never left him alone for too long, so he continued to nibble.

A small commotion at the top of the stairs a few minutes later and Blaine came down into the room, grinning all over his handsome face. Kurt smiled and beckoned to him and the shorter, curly-haired boy wended his way through the dancers to plop down beside Kurt. He leaned over and nuzzled Kurt's well-coiffed hair, for which he received an elbow and he stole a cookie from Kurt's plate.

"Hey, get your own!" Kurt mock-glared at the other boy but then grinned back at him. He loved Blaine as the dear friend he was but he had realized at the start of senior year that he didn't love him romantically. Now they were such good friends that they often discussed the merits of the various boys they thought were gay but closeted. They often promised each other that when they both were in New York, they would cruise the bars together. For now, though, they were just really close friends.

Kurt felt eyes on him and looked up, only to narrow his as he caught both David and Puck staring at him and Blaine. He lifted one eyebrow sardonically and then turned his attention quite pointedly to the group dancing wildly in the center of the room. He looked up at Blaine who was bouncing his leg and singing along to the music and asked, "Wanna dance?"

Without answering, Blaine grabbed his hand and Kurt quickly put his plate down before the rest of the food could slide off. He laughed aloud as Blaine yanked him towards the middle of the group and they joined in the wild gyrations that passed for dancing.

As Kurt danced, he realized that the two boys were still staring and he smirked at them before turning his back and he refocused on Blaine. Just his luck that the two boys who made his pulse hammer were staring at him as if they hadn't seen him before.

Just then Blaine leaned forward and kissed him and Kurt jerked back in surprise, a little laugh escaping him. Blaine placed his hands on Kurt's hips, pulled him closer and murmured beneath the music, "Wanna make 'em jealous?"

Kurt stared at him, confused, but he kept dancing and then placed his arms loosely – as he was slightly taller – around Blaine's shoulder. They'd danced like this often before when they thought they could be a couple. Now, the way they were pressed closely together, hips swaying, it took on a whole different look and Kurt smirked as he felt Blaine's hands lower to his backside. His very fine backside, if his girls were to be believed.

He still couldn't understand why, even though he was out as a gay kid, the girls still touched him and flirted with him. They were always going on about his banging body and Brittany had risked the wrath of a jealous Santana by going on about how soft and sweet his lips were. He shook his head now as he leaned into Blaine, actually enjoying the close dancing. He could feel Blaine giggle every now and then and he figured it was because of the boys who were watching.

Suddenly he felt someone come up behind him just as Blaine's eyes widened with a mischievous gleam. Kurt glanced up quickly and saw David standing behind him and he let go of Blaine slightly to raise an eyebrow.

"Yes, David, may I help you?"

He and Karofsky had become fairly good friends after the drama of junior and senior year and he'd been glad to know that Rachel had invited him, even though he no longer attended McKinley.

David had once confessed his love to Kurt on a Valentine's Day but Kurt had since convinced him, he hoped, that what he felt for him was really just friendship. Now here he was, looking shy and handsome as all get out as he stared down at his feet before answering Kurt.

"I'm, uh, wondering if, uhm, I could… maybe… cut in?" David's hazel eyes sparkled in the low light and Kurt stepped back with a soft smile.

"Why, of course, he's all yours," and he relinquished his hold on Blaine who was looking a little confused. Even when David had moved to stand before him and slipped his hands onto Blaine's hips, he still looked from Kurt to David wonderingly. Kurt simply chuckled and walked away, heading towards the bar.

He joined Finn, Puck and Artie and it wasn't until after he'd started on his third cup of the night that he realized the punch had been spiked. Three guesses as to who was responsible, he thought as a giggle escaped him while watching an obviously tipsy Sam doing a striptease for Mercedes, Santana and Brittany.

Two hours later, they were all well on the way to hammered and Kurt was glad that he was staying at the Berrys'; they all were except for Artie, Tina and Mike who were going to be picked up by Artie's dad.

Kurt was watching Rachel trying to convince the group to play some stupid, childish party game and eventually told them to choose either Truth or Dare, Spin the Bottle or Seven Minutes in Heaven. Kurt wasn't a fan of any of them and he groaned when the obviously horny group decided on Seven Minutes in Heaven. He could only hope he got Brittany or Blaine; any of the others would be dangerous or just plain weird.

As luck would have it, ten minutes in, Kurt found himself in the closet with the jock of his dreams, a tongue down his throat and hot, roving hands fondling him through his skinny jeans.

There were groans, which belonged to whom, he couldn't ever tell but he wondered dazedly at one point if the others outside could hear them. He had his own hand inside the other boy's jeans and was pumping a hot, hefty cock and he groaned as his own was fondled in a deliciously rough manner.

He suddenly got an idea and fell to his knees, his hands yanking the other boy's jeans down just enough so he had room to work. Hands stroked through his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp and he moaned around the turgid flesh he was working wetly.

"Oh, shit, Kurt, unh," and Kurt shuddered at the sound of his name moaned in such a wanton way. He bobbed his head, and braced himself with his hands clasping the other boy's thighs. He'd never given head before but it was making his mouth water and he swallowed convulsively, hearing stifled swearing above him. He felt good on so many levels; he was hard and horny, yes, but he also felt a deep satisfaction that he was bringing this particular boy so much unexpected pleasure.

He worked him instinctively, taking him deep and sliding back so the tip was just in his mouth and then he surged forward again, repeating this series until finally he felt the balls he was fondling tighten. Suddenly his mouth was flooded just as a warning came in the form of his hair being grabbed but Kurt didn't care; he wanted it all.

The sounds they were making were so porny that if he hadn't been flushed already, Kurt knew he'd be blushing. He sucked and licked up every drop that had been given to him and finally he rested his head against his hips. Then he sat back on his heels, licking his lips in an unconsciously seductive manner as he stared at the way the thick, flaccid dark cock hung before him, sated.

A cold, nauseous feeling washed over Kurt though when his partner quickly tucked himself back into his jeans, threw Kurt a vague "thanks" and exited the powder room. With one last apologetic look, he left Kurt there with his own cock rapidly deflating and a feeling of scorching shame replacing every last bit of euphoria.

Kurt hadn't seen him again until now…

_End flashback – Present day_

"…Noah Puckerman."

There was silence and then Fayed, pulling himself up, nodded and smiled politely at this man whose presence had so upset his Kurt.

Puck nodded in return but it was evident that he only had eyes for Kurt.

Fayed, ever sensitive to Kurt's moods, looked at him, one eyebrow rising in silent inquiry. Kurt shook his head and then, smiling at Brittany, he took Fayed's arm and was led back into the ballroom. There was silence behind him and he felt a little bad for Brittany but there was no way he was going to be able to exchange polite small talk with Puck.

Kurt's mood continued to plummet for the rest of the night but he called on all his considerable skills and was charming and attentive to Fayed for the duration of the ball. When they sat down to dinner, he was relieved to see they were not at the same table as Brittany and Puck. He was able to relax a bit and forget that the boy that had so humiliated all those years ago wasn't in the same room with him, looking devastatingly handsome.

Success obviously sat well on Puck and Kurt's inner eye recalled how he looked earlier that night. As he lifted the fork mechanically to his mouth, totally oblivious to whatever was put in front of him, he thought how unfair it was that Puck was so gorgeous. His tanned skin, the gorgeous coffee-colored eyes with the hint of green, the full lower lip – it was totally unfair. No doubt all those beautiful muscles were still just as firm as ever, if the cut of his tuxedo tonight was any indication.

Fayed watched Kurt throughout the night and longed to ask who Puckerman had been to Kurt but he restrained himself. If Kurt wanted to pretend that everything was fine, he was not going to rock the boat. He planned to enjoy himself the rest of the night with Kurt's beautiful body and sinful mouth; let the phantoms of the past stay in the past.

Across the room, Brittany pouted as all her attempts to get Puck to tell her what was going on was met with failure. She couldn't see what the problem was; Kurt and Puck had been almost-friends when Puck had joined the Glee club and after that they had seemed friendly enough. Now Kurt's reaction tonight indicated to even her sometimes fuzzy brain that something had happened; something that made Kurt feel sick to remember it. She'd recognized that look of impending nausea when she'd said Puck's name earlier and when he'd rushed to restroom, her suspicion had been confirmed.

Yet Puck sat there barely eating, drinking occasionally, and staring across the room at Kurt. Kurtie looked beautiful tonight, she had to admit, and she really wouldn't mind a threesome with his handsome prince. She liked watching men enjoying each other and it turned her on a whole helluva lot imagining Kurt with other guys.

Suddenly, the thought seemed to spawn another and she turned understanding eyes onto Puck who looked down into his glass with a frown.

"Oh, Puck, you didn't sleep with Kurtie, did you?" Her voice held a tinge of censure which he didn't like.

"Why would you think that? Because I'm a man whore, I must have hit on the gay kid, too, right?"

The bitterness in his voice took her aback and she was about to apologize when he continued.

"No, I didn't sleep with your precious 'Kurtie'. I don't roll that way."

He tossed back the last of his drink, slammed the glass down and indicated to a passing waiter that he wanted another. Brittany put a slender hand on his black-clad arm and shook her head.

"Puck, please, no more? I'm sorry if I upset you."

Puck stared at her and then with a sigh he relaxed somewhat. He shook his head and apologized, too. "No, it's okay. I'm just_"

He broke off because he really couldn't explain why he was feeling the way he was. His eye caught Kurt leaning in to listen to his partner and a feeling churned in Noah's gut that he didn't want to recognize. Another feeling was vying for attention too and he knew that that one was shame. He was ashamed, even after all these years. He'd never forgiven himself for leaving that boy on the floor of the Berrys' powder room with come on his face.

Kurt hadn't deserved that; he hadn't deserved for Puck to use him to get off and then flee the room as if some old pervert had cornered him in some skanky men's room somewhere. Kurt had been hot and sweet and so damn sexy but it had scared Puck to know that he could feel this way with another boy. So he'd fled, muttering thanks like a damned idiot while Kurt stared up at him with those big, hurt blue eyes.

Even after all this time, he could still recall the feel of Kurt's mouth beneath his. He'd been the first boy he'd kissed and when it had fallen to the two of them to spend Seven Minutes in Heaven, he'd swaggered into the powder room with Kurt in tow as if it was all in a day's work.

When he'd kissed Kurt on the mouth instead of just pretending and making fake sex sounds, he'd been enthralled. Kurt's lips were smooth, soft and so cushiony that Puck had found himself sliding his hands around Kurt's waist and bringing him in close to him. Kurt had opened to him so sweetly that he'd moaned and deepened the kiss, no doubt overwhelming the kid who'd only ever kissed Bland before.

Now he rubbed his hand through his hair, messing up the style his publicist had said looked good on him but he didn't care. It wasn't as if he would see Kurt again for the rest of the night. No doubt that rich asshole, Prince Whatever, was going to take Kurt home and… and…

Noah's mind stuttered as he refused to imagine what the two men were going to do when they got to Kurt's place. No way was he going to think on that and he grabbed his fresh glass of whiskey and took a huge drink.

Brittany watched him even as she ate and made polite conversation with the other movers and shakers around the table. The charity event was well-supported; it was a cause that she personally supported so she wasn't just there for publicity reasons. When Puck had called to ask if she was going, they decided they would be each other's plus-one.

Now she glanced concernedly at Puck who had hardly touched the obviously expensive dinner their hosts had laid on for them. He was drinking too much and she'd never known him to be a drinker.  
Finally she sighed as he pushed his glass away and sat back. There would be dancing later but she knew he wouldn't be in the mood for that.

Boy, was she wrong.

When the music started up in the larger area of the ballroom, Puck had grabbed her hand and moved onto the floor. He spun her around and she laughed happily, hoping it meant that his mood was improving. She glanced around at the other couples enjoying themselves and for some reason her heart dipped when she saw Kurt dancing with his prince. She tried to draw Puck's attention away from that area of the floor but it was too late; Puck had seen them and was steering them in their direction.

When Kurt, during one turn had seen Puck and Brittany moving inexorably in his direction, he'd tried to hint to Fayed that he wanted to leave the floor. Fayed had not understood and was too much enjoying Kurt's body against his to recognize what Kurt was hinting at.

The next thing Fayed knew, his arms were full of the beautiful blonde move star from earlier and Kurt was dancing stiffly in the arms of the stranger from earlier. Fayed didn't know how he felt about that but he knew Kurt wasn't looking too happy.

Kurt and Puck danced in silence for a while before Kurt's natural snark reasserted itself. "There are photographers here; aren't you afraid your picture will be all over the tabloids tomorrow?"

Puck lowered his eyes to stare at Kurt's lips that were pressed tightly together in a firm line. He didn't say anything but he looked up at Kurt's eyes, seeing the lingering traces of anger and humiliation in their cerulean depths. He sighed and then looked off over Kurt's smooth, pale shoulder before speaking.

"This apology has been a long time coming, I know." He felt Kurt stiffen further, if that were even possible, but he wasn't deterred. "Kurt, I'm sorry for being a jerk back in high school. I'm so, so sorry…"

He broke off as he saw the crystalline sparkle of tears on Kurt's long, darkened lashes. He heard Kurt sniff and he looked away to give him time to compose himself. "I-You didn't deserve that, when you'd been nothing but_"

He bit his lip before continuing, wondering if he should say all that had been bubbling within him from the moment he'd seen Kurt tonight. He drew a deep breath and made his decision.

"You'd been so hot, felt so right; what we did was – it blew me away and it… it scared me." He finished in a whisper, his eyes dark with remembered shame. "I never wanted you to feel bad or dirty about any of it. I-I'm just so sorry."

Neither of them had realized they'd stopped moving, the other dancers maneuvering around them unnoticed. Kurt stared up at Noah's dark, beautiful eyes and his heart hammered in his chest. He had wanted an apology all these years and now he had it, he didn't know what to do with it. His lips parted and he took a deep breath but…

Noah lowered his head and pressed his lips against Kurt's. The music, the chatter, everything faded away and he could do nothing but imprint the feel of Kurt's body in his arms and his lips against his.

Suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder and Puck looked up right into the face of a furious prince and Brittany's bewildered face. Fayed and Brittany stared between him and Kurt and he turned back to see Kurt staring as well with his fingers touching his lips. He dropped his hands from Kurt's waist, took a step back and said again, "I'm sorry," and left the dance floor.

Brittany threw Kurt an apologetic look and hurried after Puck, hoping he was alright.

Fayed turned to Kurt who looked stricken and his anger eased somewhat. It was clear that Kurt had not invited the kiss; he needed to get to the bottom of this thing between Kurt and the stranger. He took Kurt's hand and led him off the floor, wound their way through the tables and out the door. He left Kurt standing to retrieve their coats and then he called for his limo.

As they stood waiting, Fayed knew that there would be no sweet lovemaking tonight. For the first time in their acquaintance, Kurt did not look like the sophisticated, dazzling young man about town that he'd first met. This quiet man standing contemplatively beside him wasn't the sparkling, seductive Kurt that they all knew and expected.

Fayed suspected that he was now seeing the real Kurt Hummel, a would-be singer from the small town of Lima, Ohio. Whether he got to see the other Kurt again, that would be left up to the younger man. For right now, he would give him what comfort he could – and hope that when this little storm in a teacup was past, normality would return.

Kurt, lost somewhere in his mind as he waited for the car to arrive, wondered if, after Noah's unexpected apology and that startling kiss, things would ever go back to normal.

Somehow he doubted it.

.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Escort**

**Chapter Three**

By Kurtofsky4eva

* * *

**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM. Rated M for content and language.

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

* * *

Kurt never did explain to Fayed what had happened in the past with Noah and he never pressed him. Kurt had returned to his former vivacious self that night. They did make love but Fayed realized that, for once, while Kurt was riding him to a climax that had Fayed's eyes rolling back in his head, a part of him remained shuttered away.

Afterwards, having showered and returned to the bed whose wrecked linens Kurt had changed, he had cuddled Kurt to him and vowed that he would do everything so the sparkle would return to Kurt's eyes.

Kurt truly enjoyed his time with the prince; the man believed in seeing to Kurt's pleasure every single time and he never once let Kurt feel that this was essentially a business arrangement. He knew he was lucky – had been lucky, mostly – with his selection of clients. Some escorts had some truly horrifying stories to tell but Kurt had never encountered anyone who was less than civilized and mostly charming.

As he sank into welcome sleep, his traitorous mind, probably seduced by his well-fucked body, drew him down into a dream the likes of which he had not had in a long time.

He brushed his lips against the warm flesh beneath his hand and then laid his head on the heaving chest. The smell of their lovemaking surrounded him and he never thought he wouldn't be freaking out about the sticky mess on their stomachs. He chuckled even as his cheeks heated up, recalling how he had yelled his head off when he came. The fingers carding through his hair tightened, causing him to lift his head and he stared at the warm, dark eyes looking back at him.

"What's so funny?" The other's voice was husky, sexy and utterly alluring to Kurt. He shook his head and licked his lips before replying.

"Oh, it's just that I never pictured us doing this – and certainly not in front of the others."

They both looked to see all the heated eyes staring at them; everyone looked turned on as hell and Kurt felt himself stirring again at the thought that he could do that to them.

The fingers in his hair suddenly tightened painfully and the next thing he knew, he was on his knees and a cock was forcing itself into his mouth. He could hear the laughter of the watchers outside the glass walls of his box and he knew they laughed because of his tears.

He tried to speak around the hot flesh in his mouth and then managed to pull off completely. "Please… no, not like this…" but the hand was there again, forcing his head down on the iron-hard flesh between his lips, choking him. No, please. _No!_

_**NO!**_

Kurt felt the hand on him and he rolled from the bed so quickly his head spun. He found himself on the floor staring up at an alarmed and quite naked Prince.

"Kurt, my dear, what_?"

Kurt gazed around dazedly and to his shame and utter mortification, realized he'd been dreaming. He struggled to his feet, ran a hand through his messy hair and stared at Fayed.

"Oh, my god, Fayed, I'm so, so sorry. I haven't had a dream like this in_," he broke off as he shook his head, trying to dredge up a smile for the man who was now trying to get him to sit on the side of the bed.

"Stay here; I'll get you some water," and Fayed hurried into the _en suite_, taking a glass and filling it quickly with cool tap water. He paused and then opened the medicine cabinet, taking out the Tylenol bottle and shaking two into his hand. Then he hurried back to Kurt who was still sitting on the edge of the bed but staring down at his hands in his lap.

"Here, love, take these, too."

Kurt nodded at him gratefully, swallowed the pills with some of the water and then sighed. Fayed took the glass from him and then sat beside him on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kurt leaned wearily against him, blinked rapidly to hold back embarrassed tears and tried to chuckle lightly. "Ah, no, I've been embarrassed enough tonight, I think."

He was aware of Fayed's concern but he couldn't bring himself to relate all the mortifying elements in the dream. Fayed wasn't stupid; in no time he would connect the dots and know that it was Noah's unexpected presence that was playing havoc with Kurt's equilibrium.

Kurt looked at the other man, leaned in and kissed him softly before murmuring against his lips, "You've been so sweet to me, I don't deserve it."

Fayed's eyes heated but he restrained himself to returning the sweetly simple kiss and hummed. "You make it so easy to be kind to you, my dear."

Kurt smiled at him and from his body language, Fayed could see that he was relaxing so they re-settled themselves in the bed. However, when he would have pulled Kurt to lie against his chest as he usually did, Kurt flinched away although he tried to cover it up.

Kurt felt his cheeks flush but he smiled softly at Fayed and offered: "I'm a little overheated," at which Fayed simply nodded and settled in to sleep. If a little niggle of hurt remained, he was a big boy and Kurt was obviously going through something. He could wait for his lovely, vibrant Kurt to return. He had time.

.

* * *

.

Puck knew he had no reasonable expectation of forgiveness from Kurt. What he'd done was gauche and cruel; it would be unpardonable but for the fact that he knew Kurt well. Kurt had forgiven the douchebags who had made much of his high school life miserable. He'd forgiven Karofsky; heck, he'd even forgiven him, Noah, for the numerous dumpster tosses and Finn for standing by and not stopping them.

Kurt was just an amazing man and Puck knew if he ever forgave him for what had happened that night of the party, he would do everything in his power never to hurt him again.

Puck didn't have much time left in New York but he knew he had to find a way to talk to Kurt before he left. Now, heading up to the hotel suite that Brittany was staying in, he crossed his fingers and prayed that she would give him Kurt's phone number. Brittany had a soft spot for both him and Kurt and he was going to play on that like a world-class fiddler.

Brittany opened the door in only a champagne-colored teddy that didn't cover a whole lot and Puck's eyebrows reached his hairline. She waved him in, indicating that he should shut the door while she continued her conversation on the phone with Santana, apparently.

"No, San, I'm flying back today; I was just getting dressed to head to the airport, baby." She giggled and then_ "What am I wearing?!" and she walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

Her voice had dropped to a purr but Puck could definitely hear when the conversation descended into blatant phone sex. He sighed and took a seat on the huge, plush couch, grabbing up a magazine and trying to tune out Brittany and Santana's phone sex.

Half an hour later, Brittany came out of the bedroom looking flushed but thankfully fully dressed. She smiled widely when she saw Puck waiting patiently and she skipped over to give him a hug.

"Hey, sweetie, what are you doing here?"

Puck took a breath and then she leaned back slightly, looking at him with that unexpectedly shrewd look that never failed to startle him and declared: "You're here to get Kurtie's number, aren't you?"

Puck felt his cheeks flush for being so transparent and he offered up a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I'd really like to apologize, Britt, and maybe take him to dinner or something."

She stared at him as if taking his measure but then suddenly the suite's phone rang. It was the concierge letting her know her car for the airport was there and he would be sending up the bellhops for her luggage.

When she rang off she turned back to Puck but this time she smiled at him. "Okay! Whatever is going on with you and my baby, sort it out, okay? I don't ever want to see that sick look on his face again."

Puck swallowed; Britt could be pretty surprisingly serious at times and he was sure that living with Santana had only increased the tendency. She got up, went over to the occasional table that held a pad and pen and swiftly wrote something down.

She tore off the slip of paper and came back over, holding it out to Puck. When he got up to take it from her, she snatched it back before he could touch it. She frowned at him suspiciously and then asked: "Do you promise you won't hurt him again?"

Puck's eyes widened and he definitely flushed this time, his eyes dropping before he looked back up and nodded. "Believe me, Britt, hurting Kurt is the last thing I would ever want to do."

She apparently took him at his word because she let him take the slip of paper before moving off to get the door and let in the bellhops. He went with her down to the waiting car and they exchanged a tight hug during which she whispered, "Call me, okay?" and then watched as she was driven away into the Manhattan traffic.

He looked at the paper, memorized the number and then tucked it away. He turned and headed back into the hotel but turned right and entered the world-famous restaurant. As he waited to be seated, he took out his phone and stared at it. Every bone in his body, every cell told him he needed to call Kurt right that minute but he forced himself to wait.

Finally, when he was seated and the maître d' brought him a menu, he only ordered a drink before telling the man he might be expecting a friend. The man bowed understandingly and when he left, Puck dialed the number Britt had given him.

He held his breath as he listened, praying that Kurt wouldn't hang up when he realized it was him calling.

"Hello, Kurt Hummel speaking. Who is this?" Kurt's voice was slightly breathless as if he'd hurried to answer the call and Puck closed his eyes as he took a deep breath and answered.

"Uhm, Kurt, hi, it's me, Puck," he managed to get out in a rush and waited for Kurt to say something else…

… And he waited.

Finally: "Hello, Noah, how did you_, oh, never mind; Brittany, I suppose."

Kurt had just stepped out of a long, luxurious, relaxing bath and now, wrapped in one of his decadently soft robes, he climbed onto his bed and planted himself in the middle of it. "Well, why are you calling me, Noah? You've apologized."

Puck drew a deep breath and then stopped to nod his thanks to the waiter who brought his drink. "Ah, well, you haven't actually said you've accepted it. If you haven't, could you maybe come have a drink with me so I can apologize some more?"

Kurt found he had to bite back a chuckle; that sounded almost exactly like the Puck from high school. He always had been able to mix cheekiness and faux innocence in an irresistible package. At least, Kurt had found it almost irresistible although he had never let on to anyone. God forbid he would have told the girls; in no time it would have been around the school that he was crushing on yet another straight jock.

Now though, Kurt was seriously tempted to say yes but a sudden recollection of his embarrassing night after he'd fallen asleep made him hold back. "Uhm, well, I_"

Puck's voice came down the line and Kurt unconsciously held the phone tighter as he listened to the voice he'd always secretly liked.

"Please, Kurt, give me a chance, please? Or if you're busy now, could we have dinner later tonight?"

Kurt tilted his head as a million thoughts buzzed in his mind. "What's the hurry? Suppose I said tomorrow night?"

Puck dropped his head and sighed before answering, ignoring the stares of the patrons nearest to him. "I leave town tomorrow morning, is all. Well, do you want to come have a drink now with me?" He desperately wanted to add another 'please' but that would have been totally pathetic.

There was silence on the line as Kurt thought about it and then his soft voice came back, slightly husky, "Okay, a drink would be good. Where do you want to meet?"

Puck gave him the address of the hotel and told him he'd be waiting for him in the restaurant. Kurt told him to give him an hour and he'd be there at which Puck let out a relieved sigh. Kurt heard it but ignored it and they ended the call.

The next hour or so was one of the most uncomfortable for Puck who kept going over things he wanted to say, discarding them and the reconsidering. He practiced trying to look cool and collected but he had another drink just to calm himself. Really, you'd think he was going to be interviewed for a job or something, he was that nervous. Finally, at the slight commotion at the doors to the restaurant, Puck looked up to see the maître d' talking to Kurt.

If Kurt had been stunning the night before, today he was downright breathtaking and Puck was on his feet before he'd even realized. The maître d' led Kurt over to Puck's table and nodded courteously as he held out a chair for Kurt.

Today Kurt was in shades of blue and ivory that did stunning things to his creamy skin and gorgeous eyes and Puck couldn't help but stare… as did some of the other patrons in the ritzy restaurant. New York was no stranger to celebrities, the beautiful people of every ilk but Kurt's level of theatricality wasn't something you often saw off of the stage.

As Kurt had walked towards him, Puck – and everyone else – took in everything about Kurt; from the top of his gleaming, artistically tousled dark hair down to his blue suede, knee-high boots. In between, admiring eyes noted the matching suede cape that swung from his shoulders over his ivory silk v-neck sweater that hugged his nicely toned chest and down to the tight blue jeans that left very little to the imagination.

Puck swallowed hard and then cleared his throat, greeting Kurt with a tiny smile that didn't hide any of his admiration. In fact, "Wow, Kurt, you look_"

Kurt laughed lightly and nodded his thanks to the maître d' who had whipped out a menu after seating Kurt. He perused the menu, intensely aware of Noah's stare and then ordered a martini. The maître d' scurried off and Puck just knew that Kurt's drink would arrive in record time.

Kurt finally spoke directly to Puck, every hint of amusement gone from his smooth face. "So, Noah, you said something about apologizing again…"

Puck thought for a crazy second that Kurt was joking, despite his expression but he realized the other man was deadly serious. He looked closely at Kurt; he knew Kurt used to wear a little makeup in school but now he looked at him he could see some serious covering up beneath his eyes. Did that mean there were shadows there? Was he the cause of the shadows beneath Kurt's beautiful eyes? Regret rolled through him and he ducked his head before speaking.

He didn't get a chance to speak because Kurt spoke again, though. "What are you apologizing for, exactly? Eight years ago when you_" he broke off, his lashes fluttering as he looked away and then back at Puck again, "or the kiss last night?"

Puck was a little taken aback because he hadn't considered the kiss something he needed to apologize for. He shook his head, frowning slightly but he answered as sincerely as he could manage. "I'm apologizing for what happened eight years ago, of course. There is no way I'd apologize for kissing someone as hot as you."

He looked at Kurt as if that should have been obvious, noticing the faint pink that streaked the top of Kurt's cheekbones. As he'd expected, the waiter had returned with Kurt's drink _tout de suite_ and Kurt sipped at it now.

Puck looked at him in slight confusion. Surely men had told Kurt he was beautiful before so why the blush. Puck had become a little more sophisticated in the eight years between that incident and today so he ignored Kurt's discomfiture and sought for a topic of conversation that would ease the slight awkwardness between them.

"Oh, by the way," he said now with a faint, somewhat affectionate smile. "Britt says she'll be seeing you in a few months. She and Santana want to be here in the New Year, apparently."

Kurt nodded after putting down his martini, half of which he'd drunk after Noah's compliment. "Yes, we hook up occasionally, so I suppose I'll see her then."

Puck knew his eyebrows had flown up to his hairline when Kurt had said 'hook up' and now he stared at the other man confusedly. "'Hook up'; but I thought you were_"

Kurt, cool and composed again, quirked one eyebrow at his former classmate, trying to ignore how sexy Noah looked in a brown leather bomber jacket over a simple white tee. "What? Gay? Well, I'm bisexual, actually," and waited for Noah's questions.

He chuckled softly as he watched the other man's handsome face and the myriad of expressions that flitted swiftly by. Kurt couldn't really blame him for being confused; he'd been so adamant about being gay, being out and proud in high school that this must come like a bolt out of the blue to Noah.

Puck stared at Kurt, taking in his stunning features that he'd grown into over the years. Kurt had an air of elegance, of being only used to the best things in life and it was fascinating to Puck. He thought of Kurt with women and struggled to picture it. He vaguely remembered hearing Britt mention how soft Kurt's lips and hands were but that had been back in high school. Now he realized that the blonde must have been enjoying the bounty of Kurt's stunning body for a while now. He shifted in his seat as his body reacted to that visual and he took a sip of his now watery drink.

When he spoke, however, it was to return to the previous topic. "So, do you forgive me for being such a douche back in high school?" He would never admit to holding his breath but Kurt was important to him in a very confusing way and he felt as if he couldn't leave New York without knowing the answer.

Kurt took a deep breath and watched Noah go rigid as he waited for his answer. Why it was so important for Kurt to forgive him, Kurt didn't know but his soft heart could not deny that he wanted to forgive the other boy – no, man. Noah was definitely a man now and Kurt could see the changes the years had wrought in him. Noah had always been muscular, fit and sexy in a very eye-catching way yet he must have had some sensitivity to him that made him a loving father to his daughter, Beth. Although she had been adopted, Kurt knew Noah had stayed in his daughter's life.

Kurt looked up now and smiled, his eyes shy as he nodded and took a quick sip of his martini.

It wasn't enough for Puck, though; he wanted to hear the words and he reached across and grasped Kurt's hand gently. When Kurt looked up at him he murmured, "Please, you need to say it."

Kurt felt his heart stutter when Noah had taken hold of his hand and the pulse in his throat fluttered, unseen by the other man. He took a breath and then, "Yes, Noah, I really forgive you. Now, please, just drop it, okay?"

Puck released his hand reluctantly even as he smiled at Kurt, his brown eyes gleaming and he nodded his thanks. Talk about a weight off your shoulders! He hadn't even realized how tense he'd been and with Kurt's acceptance of his apology, he felt lighter already.

Kurt stared at the huge smile on Noah's face and chuckled himself, shaking his head as he looked away again. Something about the other man made him feel as if he wasn't the sophisticated man about town any longer but Kurt, McKinley High's fashionable, show tune-loving diva. He didn't know if he still had a crush on Noah but this feeling he had right now was dangerous and he recognized that if he stayed any longer, Noah would know he wasn't indifferent towards him.

Suddenly straightening up, he pushed his martini glass forward a precise centimeter and rose, staring down at Noah with a faintly imperious air. "Well, you've got what you've wanted; take care, Noah, and have a good flight back home."

Puck, surprised by Kurt's abrupt action, leapt to his feet, almost knocking his chair over and cried, "No, I mean, please, stay a little, Kurt. Come on, don't go yet!"

Kurt glanced around nervously at the other diners and just as the maître d' came up to them, he smiled, shook his head and left quickly. Puck called after him but he had to settle up before he could dash outside. Finally, when he rushed out onto the pavement, he knew with a sinking heart that he would be too late and that he wouldn't find Kurt.

He cursed as his head whipped from one side to the other looking one way and then the other. He knew Kurt was in one of the many yellow cabs that infested the always busy streets of the city and he felt his shoulders slump. Damn! He didn't know what else he wanted from Kurt beside the acceptance of his apology but he hadn't wanted the man to leave as yet.

As he stood there looking about unhappily, a cab pulled up beside him and he hopped in. He gave the driver the address of his publishers and slumped back, his face set in a frown. Maybe he could get Kurt's home address from the directory but somehow he knew that it wouldn't be that easy. His heart ached and he didn't know why. However, this wasn't the time to give himself a heart-to-heart talk. He would call Kurt later that evening and try to talk to him. Maybe, for whatever reason, Kurt would take pity on him and allow them to meet up. Yeah, maybe.

.

….

.

Kurt had got a cab almost immediately he stepped out of the fancy swinging glass doors of the hotel. Sitting back in the cab, he'd been oblivious to the noises of the busy Manhattan streets and when he was dropped off at his apartment building, he was still lost in thought.

He couldn't be distracted in the job he had and Noah was a definite distraction. Last night the prince had been gracious, totally lovely in looking after Kurt after the nightmare incident. It couldn't be allowed to happen again and he was determined to pull himself together. Really, what had happened eight years ago should not be allowed to affect his life now. Good lord, he was acting as if he'd been raped or something, traumatized by a stupid incident between two horny boys.

Except it had totally devastated Kurt because he was so not the type to give blowjobs in people's powder rooms with their best friends not five feet away. Kurt had felt humiliated and so ashamed of himself. He had straightened his clothes, washed his face and rinsed his mouth repeatedly for minutes on end. Then he'd hauled on his best bitch face and stepped out, shrugging off the tipsy comments from his friends. Puck hadn't been around and someone said that he'd left already. Kurt had shrugged, got himself a drink and then, unable to sustain the act, pleaded a headache. He had left before Finn could question him and he'd seen the uncertain looks that Blaine, Mercedes and David had thrown at him.

Kurt remembered how he'd sat in his Navigator in the driveway of his home for long minutes, sobbing his eyes out and feeling as if everyone knew what he and Puck had done. He'd almost decided not to go to school the following week but even though they didn't have classes, he was expected to turn up so he did.

He and Puck had avoided each other's eyes and they hadn't spoken again until last night, eight years later. Apparently Noah had grown enough of a conscience, Kurt snarked to himself, to realize that what he'd done had been a totally douche move.

Kurt let himself into the penthouse suite and threw off his cape, not even caring to hang it up and slouched into the couch. He had a couple of business calls to make, one of them to his manager at Arena but he really wasn't busy. He could easily have spent hours with Noah but he was afraid for his heart. It would be far too easy to let himself believe that he meant more to the other man than just a regrettable moment in their past.

Getting up to get his appointment book, he perused it and realized that, apart from dinner with Fayed in two days, he was free. He smiled to himself, thinking that if things had been different he could really fall for the dark prince. For whatever reason though, he felt a definite affection for him but nothing more.

_He's not Noah_, a traitorous whisper coiled in his mind and he clenched his fist, his lips thinning as he told the voice to shut the fuck up! _'That was off limits, you bitch,' _he told the voice in his head, imagining that it sounded a bit like Rachel. In a moment of weakness years ago, he'd admitted to himself that his crush on Noah could have developed and grown had he been given even the slightest bit of encouragement by the tanned jock. Now, whenever he experienced a moment of weakness, the damned voice piped up. He was in no mood right now for that and he grabbed his phone to start his calls.

Noah Puckerman was off limits; Noah Puckerman was not into the likes of Kurt Hummel.

He said this enough times in his head and he started to believe it and as he waited to be connected to his manager and owner of Arena, he relaxed.

When the man's voice came on the line, he told Kurt about a couple of potentials who had evinced interest in Kurt after the ball last night.

"You did great, kid; these are serious high-rollers. You may have heard of Diane LeMontaigne? Yes? Well, she wants to invite you and a couple of our other 'players' to her chateau this weekend. Are you game?"

Kurt had heard of but never met the ridiculously rich Frenchwoman. Her parties were legendary and the unique thing about them is that they could start in one country and end up in a totally different one by the end of the night. When you owned your own luxury jet and a mega yacht that was always being photographed, you could do things like that.

"Kurt," his manager's voice came again, "she's willing to pay your fee and an additional ten per cent for every night you stay there."

Kurt's eyes widened. He was going to accept anyway because who in their right minds turned down Diane LeMontaigne? Now, though, he was intrigued and didn't hesitate to ask, "What's the catch?"

The other voice chuckled. Kurt was a sharp cookie and he realized that this was an unusual arrangement. "Well, it seems she's in the mood to recreate the days of ancient Rome."

Kurt went "Ah!" and then chuckled. 'The days of ancient Rome' was code in their business for orgies and though it wasn't usually his cup of tea, he had had fun at the few he had attended. "Okay, that's cool. Tell her yes and to fax me any details she might have."

They chatted a bit and then Kurt was told, "Oh, and we have a late booking. It seems last night is turning into a gold mine for you."

"Oh, how so, apart from Diane?" Kurt was curious. He was a rather exclusive consort or escort, however you wanted to word it. He waited for his manager and he could hear the rustle of papers on the man's huge desk and then he was back with Kurt.

"Yes, here it is. It seems there's a writer who wants to have dinner with you – 'just dinner', he said. Tonight."

A sinking feeling made Kurt's chest feel tight and his breath shorten. '_Oh, no, tell me it's not_…'

The voice continued: "A Noah Puckerman. He's the guy who does those violent bestsellers with the spy that they've turned into some pretty sexy movies. Ever heard of him? Kurt? _Kurt_?"

Kurt was nodding helplessly, not realizing that because he was on the phone his manager couldn't hear him. Finally, he found his breath and said weakly, "Yes, yes, I know him…" He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, ah, so when exactly is dinner?"

His head reeled a bit and it was a good thing he was sitting at the little antique secretaire that he'd picked up at an estate sale. His legs wouldn't have held him up and he knew, he just knew that this was not going to end well.

"Tonight – he wants to pick you up tonight and take you out." The voice had a thread of concern in it as it continued. "Kurt, if you are not okay with this I can tell the guy to fuck off if you want."

Kurt chuckled, surprising himself; he knew how protective his manager could be but he couldn't help Kurt now.

"No, it's okay; I know him actually… we went to school back in Ohio."

There was silence and he knew his boss was no idiot; Kurt's odd reaction, even though he couldn't see his face would start him thinking. "So, give him your address then?" At Kurt's assent he concluded that bit of business by saying, "Alright, he said he would pick you up at seven; that should give you enough time to get pretty, huh?"

He and Kurt exchanged their usual sarcastic yet oddly affectionate banter and then rang off. Kurt slumped back in his chair and stared at his appointment book where he'd scrawled 'Noah – 7 p.m.'

The pulse in his throat was hammering away again and he knew deep in his bones that tonight was going to be anything but just dinner. There had been clients who started out wanting just dinner and then wanted to up the ante to a 'little dessert'. Those were the ones he dropped after one 'date', never to see them again.

Now he closed his eyes and told himself that tonight's dinner with Noah would really be that… just dinner.

The thing was, Kurt didn't really trust himself around Noah. Although eight years had passed, he couldn't lie to himself; seeing Noah again last night and now this afternoon had reawakened the hunger in him.

Kurt was going to have to fight himself. He was going to have to be the perfect, 'masked' escort, letting very little of the real Kurt Hummel come through. Living a life of sexual excess meant that he had little practice in disciplining himself. However, if he wanted to survive with his pride intact, tonight Kurt had to live up to his reputation as Arena's best escort.

Tonight, Kurt would have to call on every bit of his acting skill and tuck poor little 18-year-old Kurt away into the little box in his mind. Tonight, Kurt would be something Noah would not be expecting – a 26-year-old professional who was the best at what he did. No soppy sentimentality could be allowed to undermine Kurt's control.

Noah Puckerman wouldn't know what had hit him; that was for damn certain.

.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Escort**

**Chapter Four**

By Kurtofsky4eva

* * *

**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM. Rated M for content and language.

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

* * *

Noah stared at Kurt when the diva opened his door. He had called him after his publisher had set up arrangements with Kurt's agency. He had had a feeling that Kurt wouldn't have answered his call before that, hence the third and fourth parties involved.

Now he stared at the boy he used to know and treat so reprehensibly and felt as if a stranger stood before him. Kurt was icily gorgeous in evening wear that would not have been out of place at a designer fashion show. Gone was the playfully sexy faux-dominatrix look of the gala or the casual but eye-catching elegance of that afternoon's suede and jeans ensemble.

Kurt stared back at Noah and had to admit that he'd never thought he'd be going to a Broadway show with this man of all people. He was certain that the arrangements had stipulated dinner but he knew he would never turn down a showing of one of his favorite productions.

"Well, I'm ready," he murmured without a greeting to his former schoolmate. He turned to pick up a long, white, fringed silk scarf and draped it efficiently and perfectly over his shoulders. Grabbing an expensive ankle-length wool coat, he eyed Noah's attire with a hint of approval and then sauntered past him.

Noah forcibly kept a little smile on his face in spite of Kurt's brusqueness. He hadn't known what to expect from their 'date' tonight but for Kurt to treat him as if he were just another client – which technically he was – kind of hurt. He waited for Kurt to shut the door to his suite and, with a small gesture of his hand, indicated he should lead the way. They walked toward the elevator in silence.

Noah eyed the smooth, creamy complexion of Kurt's face that was a very effective mask, realizing that he had no idea what was going through Kurt's mind. Something inside him squirmed because he really wanted back the old Kurt he used to know – the Kurt that he'd hurt but who'd forgiven him – or so he said.

He cleared his throat but Kurt cut in. "Look, Noah, you paid for this evening, so take my advice. Keep this simple."

Noah was a little startled at the cool yet amiable tone. No one watching them would know that they had spent most of their school years as acquaintances if not quite friends. To all appearances it would seem they had just met, been set up on a blind date by well-meaning friends. Something inside of him quailed at the thought that maybe he would never get through to the real Kurt… not again.

He cleared his throat; even though Kurt's statement did not require a response he couldn't stand the chilly atmosphere. "Okay, I get it. Keep it simple," and in his mind he added, _'stupid'_, thinking he could call himself a few more pejoratives.

"Uhm, I got tickets to 'Joseph'," he said now as they got into the elevator, referring to the most recent incarnation of 'Joseph & The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat' by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber.

He watched a little smile hover and then vanish at the corner of Kurt's lush lips. When he'd called earlier he'd told him that he had tickets to a show but he wanted to keep it a surprise. They would then have a late supper because he knew he himself would be ravenous after sitting through a fairly long musical.

Kurt had been surprised – and pleased but he hadn't let in on that – and told Noah that that didn't fit strictly into the parameters of 'just dinner' but he would let it slide this once.

Noah hadn't dared ask why; one did not look an unexpected gift horse in the mouth! Whatever crumbs he could collect from the table of Kurt's largesse he would gladly accept.

They stepped out onto the sidewalk and into the town car that Noah had hired for their evening, and the car pulled away.

Kurt settled back into the luxurious upholstery and stared out his window, trying hard to hold on to his dispassionate air. The warmth of Noah's muscular body in the confines of the back seat was proving distracting and he wondered how he would be able to concentrate on the show they were heading to see.

Noah, on his part, was just as aware of Kurt beside him and he glanced at the other man's profile a few times. The distance between them was about 12 inches but could have been a yawning chasm for all the interest Kurt was showing in being there with him. He sighed unconsciously and turned to look out the window at the lights of Manhattan at night time. The driver knew which theater they were heading to so there was absolute silence within the car all the way to their destination.

Kurt heard Noah's sigh and felt bad but he had to protect himself. He had a weakness for the man beside him, one that had been exploited once before to his detriment. Never again, he swore; that vulnerable, wide-eyed boy he'd been was dead and gone.

They pulled up outside the theater and Kurt smiled involuntarily. He would never be able to completely suppress the diva within him and a twinge of 'what might have been' surprised him. Usually he was pretty good and stomping on it but tonight, for some reason, it surfaced and nearly swamped him.

He stepped out onto the pavement and smiled up at the marquee with the name of the show all in lights and then down at the other smartly-dressed patrons and looked back at Noah who had come to join him. He'd forgotten that he was going to be cool and when he saw the answering smile in Noah's eyes he was brought back to himself with a jolt. 'Calm, cool and collected, Kurt,' he reminded himself abruptly and then turned away from the man beside him.

"Well, let's head inside, shall we," he murmured as he moved off, uncaring that the light in Noah's eyes had flickered out as he turned away.

Noah sighed again; tonight was going to be heavy going if Kurt kept this up. Damn, he'd said he'd forgiven him but clearly he wasn't into the forgetting part at all.

He quickly caught up to Kurt's slender figure as they entered the foyer of the theater, joining the chattering crowd as they milled about. They had arrived barely five minutes before curtain and as Noah presented their balcony tickets, the lights flickered in the first of the warnings for the patrons to be seated.

Noah had never seen this show before although he had heard how great it was and now he laughed along with the rest of the audience at the antics on the stage. Who knew Jewish history could be this amusingly presented? The way his mother used to act all those years ago, it was as if all the melancholy in the world had been distilled into their race and laughter was forbidden. He'd seen a movie version of Fiddler on the Roof and that had been funny in parts but it was so long ago he couldn't remember it all.

Now he watched Kurt enjoying himself and had to restrain himself from watching the man beside him more than the show. When the lights came up for Intermission, he had to whip his head around so that Kurt wouldn't catch him staring and he barely succeeded.

They rose and joined the throng heading down to the bar and the restrooms and Kurt excused himself after he told Noah to get him a glass of champagne. Noah said he would wait for him in the bar area and they separated.

Kurt stared at himself in the long mirror of the beautifully-lit restroom and sighed. This was a lot harder than he'd thought. He was unaccustomed to being cool with a client unless he or she was not to his taste but Noah was definitely to his taste and he wished he could disengage his heart and just go for it. He knew if he made one indication that Noah would be sharing his bed that night but he just couldn't risk it.

Noah Puckerman was Kurt's kryptonite and Kurt was going to make sure that he shielded himself well. He wasn't going to be a sucker again for Noah's brand of sexy. Nope, that was decided.

Outside, Noah got their drinks and waited patiently for Kurt and when he turned and saw him gliding towards him he felt as if his heart jerked. He stared at Kurt, unaware of the expression that revealed itself in his dark hazel eyes.

Kurt flushed a bit at the open admiration on Noah's face. He knew he looked good; he couldn't be in the line of work he was and be unaware of his looks. However, if the man kept looking at him like that it would make things a whole lot more difficult than he wanted.

He accepted the champagne flute from Noah and flicked a tiny smile of appreciation at the staring man. Pull yourself together, Puckerman, he chided his 'date' silently.

Noah shook himself out of his mini-daze and colored a bit. Kurt made him feel off-balance and he didn't know why so he took a quick sip of his whiskey soda and pretended to look around. His eyes landed on a dark-haired, voluptuous woman and she smiled invitingly at him. He automatically smiled back, thinking nothing of it and continued looking about.

Kurt had turned away to nod at an acquaintance he'd seen across the foyer, noticing the man's tuxedo was a few years out of date. His own Alexander Wang tux had been custom designed and he loved the idea that no one here was wearing anything like it. He sipped at his favorite drink and tried to ignore Noah beside him until he realized he was talking. Thinking Noah was addressing him, he turned toward him.

A woman with masses of gleaming dark hair that seemed all her own and whose breasts were squashed into a dress a size too small was talking to Noah and he was smiling down at her. Kurt's breath caught unexpectedly and a wave of dizziness swept over him.

He didn't want to feel this way! Kurt knew himself well enough to recognize jealousy and his stomach twisted. Suddenly the champagne he'd been enjoying seemed sour and flat and he bit his lip before looking for somewhere to put his glass surreptitiously.

Noah, unnaturally attuned to Kurt's every move, had felt him stiffen beside him and now he looked over at him. Kurt was paler than he had been and his eyes had a faintly pinched look about them. As he watched him, though, he saw Kurt's mask come back into place and once again he was a living doll beside Noah.

"Uhm, Kurt, this is Marisol… Marisol, this is Kurt… an old schoolmate of mine." Noah murmured the introduction, still keeping one eye on Kurt and hoping he wasn't falling ill.

Kurt pulled himself together and turned on the charm. He'd got rid of the champagne glass and he held his hand out now and smiled into Marisol's stunning dark eyes. "I'm very pleased to meet you. Marisol – that is a beautiful name!"

The woman, who had been so focused on Noah's muscular handsomeness, found herself with a totally different man invading her personal space and she flushed. Kurt was no one she had encountered before with his creamy pale skin and vaguely feminine features. The way he smiled into her eyes, though, made her pulse speed up and her nipples harden. She knew he'd noticed them when his unusual blue-green eyes dropped swiftly to them and back up to her eyes. He licked his lush pink lips and her eyes became riveted to them as he spoke, his voice light and faintly seductive.

Noah watched in amazement as the woman's interest shifted entirely to Kurt and two spots of color appeared on her smooth pale olive cheeks. She smiled into Kurt's bright blue eyes and Noah knew he was watching a master at work. Kurt definitely deserved his rep as Arena's best escort.

He shook his head and realized he was feeling left out but just as he was about to intervene in the lively discussion about Marisol's home town of Buenos Aires, the lights flickered. Before he could stop himself, he found himself gripping Kurt's elbow firmly and dragging him off towards the stairs and back to their balcony seats.

Kurt gasped but managed a little wave at the beautiful Marisol and when they were out of earshot he snarled, "Noah Puckerman, what is your problem?"

Noah spun him around and pushed him out of the way of the herd making its way upstairs. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching and then glared at Kurt.

"Look, I paid for your time tonight and you will not ignore me only to fawn over some stranger!"

Kurt stared at him with his eyes wide but without any other expression. Noah knew his mind was working at warp speed because he remembered Kurt very well from high school and waited for the vitriol to spew out at him.

However, Kurt simply shook his hand from his elbow, straightened away from the wall and turned to head up the stairs. Now he said, quite coolly, "My apologies; shall we?" and he started up without waiting for Noah.

Noah clenched his fists as he watched Kurt's long legs take the steps quickly and then he followed him, trying desperately to calm himself down. He didn't know what the hell had come over him but watching Kurt almost bedazzle that woman had made him furious. His head almost spun from the adrenaline that had flooded his body and he didn't know if he wanted to fight or fuck the man before him.

Kurt's heart was hammering in his chest as he slid into his seat, not acknowledging Noah's presence as he stared at the heavy red velvet curtains on the stage. For the rest of the show he pretended to be wholly absorbed in the action on the stage but he was even more aware of the man fuming beside him.

Noah tried, he really did, to watch the show but the fun had dissipated and now he felt as if he were getting a headache. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, hoping the movement was hidden in the dark of the theater. This night was already turning out to be a pain and they hadn't even got to dinner as yet.

* * *

Noah had been lucky to get reservations at the restaurant of his choice and he hoped Kurt approved. He did, sort of because when they stepped out of the theater and Kurt didn't see the town car, Noah had told him the restaurant was in walking distance, if Kurt didn't mind.

Kurt had simply shrugged and followed Noah, walking beside him in silence but when they'd neared the famous restaurant and Kurt had seen its sign, he'd muttered beneath his breath, "So cliché". When Noah had looked at him, though, his face was once again expressionless.

Sardi's was world-renowned and if you were an avid theater-goer like Kurt, you would have had to have visited at least once before. Noah knew Kurt was familiar with the place but he'd wanted to do something to please him, hence the tickets to the show and now dinner at a place he knew Kurt must like a lot.

They were seated amidst the fairly subdued hubbub of the crowded restaurant and Kurt actually enjoyed looking about to see if he could identify famous and not-so-famous faces among the après theater crowd. Noah suppressed a grin at what Kurt was doing and contented himself with scanning the menu. As he tried not to watch Kurt over the top of his menu, he suddenly felt someone standing by their table and he looked up.

It was actually a couple; the woman was staring at Kurt quite avidly but the man, in his late twenties, was grinning broadly at Noah. Noah raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Yes?" and waited for the guy to speak.

"Hey! Hi, there, I'm sorry to interrupt but… aren't you Noah Puckerman, the writer?"

At Noah's somewhat reluctant nod and a grimace that he quickly hid, the guy rushed on: "Man, I love your books! Honey, didn't I say it was him?"

The woman nodded vigorously, her dark curls bobbing madly. "Yes, he said, 'honey, that looks like the guy who writes those books!' I told him, I said, 'honey, no, don't be ridiculous, he lives all the way on the other side of the country' but he said, 'no, I swear to God, it's him' and sure enough he was right!"

Noah stared bemusedly at the couple, at a loss for words in the face of the verbal tidal wave and was vaguely aware of a stifled snort from Kurt. Kurt's face was slightly flushed and he was biting his lip as if trying to hold back his laughter. Noah rolled his eyes at him and then looked back up at the couple.

"Well, thank you; er, I hope you enjoy the movies, too."

Oh, no, wrong thing to say! The guy went on and on about what he loved best and it was only the disgruntled throat-clearing from the maître d' that had the couple finally getting around to asking for Noah's autograph.

Finally, with all that behind them and their orders given to a jaded-looking waiter, Noah looked up to see Kurt staring at him with a look Noah couldn't decipher.

Kurt eventually spoke. "Does that happen to you often?"

Noah shrugged. "No, not so often but it occurs more after I've just done a round of publicity for the newest book or movie."

Kurt fiddled with the stem of his martini glass and stared into the crystal-clear liquid before saying, "Who would have thought that McKinley's badass sex-shark would turn into a world-renowned novelist."

Noah let out a little scoffing sound. "Certainly not me. I didn't even finish college. When I ran out of money during my junior year, I decided to just go it on my own. No student loan, nothing, and my ma certainly couldn't afford it."

Kurt nodded, understanding very well. "What made you decide to write?" He was really curious; he wasn't just making small talk because, seriously, Noah and writing? Kurt didn't even know he had a creative enough streak to write songs much less churn out best-selling novels.

Noah grinned, relaxing for maybe the first time that evening. "A roommate of mine actually suggested it, jokingly, one afternoon when we were bummed about how things were going for us."

He sipped his drink and thought back to that time and then he shrugged, still without looking at Kurt for very long. "We'd just seen one of those car-chase, explosions every five minutes movies and I said, 'I bet I could write better shit than this' and he bet that I couldn't."

They sat in silence while Kurt waited for him to continue and when he didn't, Kurt frowned and asked, "So, that was it? He bet you and you decided to do it?"

Noah shrugged again. "Well, I did it and shopped it around all over the place. I must have got at least a dozen rejection letters before a small firm decided to take me on." He grinned, "I think it sold because of the hot girl protagonist – who happens to be a lesbian."

It suddenly clicked in Kurt's mind why Britt would be doing the movie from Noah's latest book. These days, girl-on-girl sex on the big screen was a massive draw. He had to admit privately that he'd never read one of the books and certainly hadn't watched any movies developed from them. Now, he felt a little petty that he hadn't. After all, how many people could say they grew up with not only a world-famous author but a movie star as well… and he actually liked Brittany!

He looked seriously at Noah now and admitted it: "I've never seen any of the movies… nor read the books, for that matter." It wasn't an apology, it just felt like something he should get out there.

"Don't worry," Noah grinned at him. "It's not everybody's thing, I guess."

The tension that had been there for the earlier part of their 'date' had completely dissipated and when their dinner arrived, they were able to continue with the conversation between bites of the delicious food.

Things went smoothly until Noah, lulled by the good food and even better wine, suddenly thought to ask, "So how did you become a …" and he blushed and trailed off.

Kurt, one elegant eyebrow rising superciliously, put down his wine glass and asked coldly, "A whore?"

Noah almost choked. "No! God, Kurt, that's not what I was going to say!"

Kurt relented but relaxed only slightly. "Well, why do you do what you do – write?"

Noah's lip curled up slightly and he answered promptly, "Because I'm good at it."

The silence stretched and once again color painted his cheekbones as Kurt stared at him impassively. Noah swallowed and reached for his wine glass only to realize it was empty. He ignored the smirk on Kurt's face and indicated to the waiter that he wanted another bottle. At Kurt's subtle frown though he changed his mind and asked for the check.

His color subsided as he waited for the man to return but he couldn't get his mind to stop whirling with what Kurt hadn't said. He did what he did because he was good at it. Jesus! Noah felt like dropping his head in his hands. For years he'd gone without thinking too much or too often about the feelings that Kurt raised in him because he was straight, dammit! Now, in less than twenty-four hours he was as confused again as he'd been that night eight years ago. Could someone really turn you gay? God forbid that Finn had been right after all.

After he paid the check, he and Kurt retrieved their coats and headed outside where the car was waiting. The driver had got his itinerary from earlier, of course, and Noah wondered briefly how long he had been waiting for them. Still, he figured these drivers were pretty familiar with schlepping celebrities about the city that never sleeps.

As he ushered Kurt into the back of the car, his hand longing to linger in the small of the warm back, he berated himself. He slid onto the seat beside Kurt and struggled to find something to say. Why did Kurt fluster him so much? He hadn't felt this way since Cindy Grant's mom had propositioned on his first pool-cleaning job when he was 14! That had been his first time with a cougar but definitely not the first time having sex. Cindy's mom had shown him a thing or two and the woman had been near insatiable. As a teen, and a rather fit one at that, he'd been able to keep up and he'd been forever grateful for her tutelage. He'd put all he'd learned to good use with both girls and cougars ever since. These days, though, he was rather more selective with whom he indulged his healthy appetite and he put it down to maturity.

Now, though, Kurt made him feel as if he were jumping out of his skin and he hated feeling at a disadvantage. Thankfully, Kurt was once again staring out at the passing lights of the city and all but ignoring him. Although, to be honest, he didn't much like that either. He sighed… again.

Kurt's head whipped around and wide blue eyes glared at Noah in the dim light of the car's interior. "What is the matter with you? If this is such a chore, why did you insist on this damned date?!"

Noah almost cringed but asked, "What the hell are you on about, now?"

"You keep sighing," Kurt snarled at him. "I've never had a date who acted like you!"

Noah frowned at him. "'Date', huh, is that what you call it in your line of business?"

The car had glided to a stop outside of Kurt's building and he threw the door open immediately. "Fuck you, Noah Puckerman!"

As he slid out of the car, Noah groaned, palmed his face and then hurried after him. "Kurt, Kurt! Wait, please, I didn't mean it. Kurt!"

He caught up to him just inside the glass doors of the lobby and grabbed Kurt's arm, spinning him around. They were of a height but Noah had quite a few pounds over him so it was relatively easy. Kurt stumbled and fell against him but he pushed him back quickly. Noah grabbed his other arm as well and ended shaking Kurt to get him to stop moving.

"Kurt, stop, dammit!" He didn't know why he said what he did next but that's what came out of his mouth. "Baby, please, stop… just hear me out."

Kurt had stiffened when that one word had slipped out of Noah's mouth and apparently he was unaware of it for he continued staring at Kurt, waiting for him to calm down. When he did, simply standing there staring at him, Noah continued.

"Kurt, ever since last night, I-I can't stop…" he sighed and released Kurt's arms, taking a step back. He looked at Kurt with a plea for understanding in his dark hazel eyes. "I don't know why I feel this way but … you're driving me crazy."

Kurt's heart hammered in his chest and his cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Noah was standing way too close to him, looking at him with those gorgeous hazel eyes that Kurt had loved from in high school. He knew what Noah was feeling because he'd felt it for all those years.

Now, as he stared at Noah, the thought from earlier came back to him; he needed to be strong. He couldn't let any sign of weakness show; he just couldn't because Noah was the only person who could break him. He would break him and he wouldn't even know he was doing it. So, he needed to be strong.

Kurt felt the shutters come down and he shrugged in a faintly dismissive gesture. "Don't worry, Noah, this 'whore' knows just what you're feeling." He took a step back and turned towards the elevators, Noah still standing rigidly behind him. "Here's the antidote: go to your hotel, have your concierge send you up a special 'painkiller' - remember to specify blonde or brunette - and by tomorrow, you'll be right as rain."

The elevator doors closed on Noah's stunned face and if Kurt saw the hurt in the wide, hazel eyes, he couldn't afford to acknowledge it. The concierge would find the perfect 'vessel' for Noah to release all his confusion into and when he was back home, he would thank Kurt for his help. He would realize that Kurt had saved him from making a terrible mistake. After all, Noah Puckerman, world-famous author, was known to be straight. He couldn't afford to be 'confused' by his little fag of a former schoolmate.

Kurt held himself stiffly against the pain that he wasn't even going to acknowledge but when he closed and locked the doors to his suite, that pain seeped out in the form of slow tears.

With any luck he wouldn't have to see Noah again. His bank account was considerably fatter, thanks to this date tonight and by the end of the week he should be on his way to France. He wouldn't have time to brood on Noah Puckerman and shadowy possibilities, thankfully. There was nothing like an orgy or two to focus one's mind on what was important – having fun and making lots of money while you did it.

He loved his job and if the Noah Puckermans of the world had a problem with it, that was too damn bad.

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**TBC**

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**Please review and tell me what you think.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Escort**

**Chapter Five**

By Kurtofsky4eva

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**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides only the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM.

**A/N: My abject apologies for taking so long to update. I've been insanely busy and even though this chapter had been written and waiting on my computer, I never got around to editing it until now. Here it is finally and I hope you all enjoy it.**

**WARNING: ****This chapter definitely earns the M rating!**

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs do belong to me and they better remember that.

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Kurt sighed into the feel of strong hands kneading his muscles and stretched. He kept his face resting on his folded arms but he smiled and called back to his masseuse, "That feels so good, Erin; your hands are magic."

A soft grunt came from the woman who ran both hands down his calves, kneading strongly as she went. "You mustn't wait so long the next time. You were full of knots!"

Kurt murmured an assent. "Mmm, yes, well, things were a little tense the last few days."

He quieted and let the woman continue her work, his mind going back to Noah and the way he'd left him two nights before. Telling him to let the concierge set him up with someone for the night probably wasn't a nice thing to do but he had been so mad… and hurt.

They hadn't spoken since and Kurt hadn't expected him to call. That's not to say that a little part of him hadn't been hoping. Oh, yes, the eternal romantic lurking somewhere in his heart or mind insisted that Puck was redeemable and that things could improve between them. Reality though, said that they were better off away from each other and Kurt had to agree, albeit reluctantly.

The last two days had been filled with arrangements for his trip to France and the upcoming 'assignment'. Arena had any number of euphemisms for what they did and they often amused Kurt when he used one of them. He was really looking forward to this experience, not because of the intimacies he'd be sharing but simply because Diane LaMontaigne was an absolutely fascinating woman.

Kurt had read up on her to add to the gossip that abounded about one of the world's few female billionaires. She had impeccable taste in art, literature and clothing, besides being a first-rate businesswoman. She had a formidable intellect and had been interviewed in every magazine or newspaper in print or online including Time, Newsweek, Forbes, Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, you name it, her face had graced it. She was the French version of Oprah, he thought, grinning to himself and he admired her strong spirit and kiss-my-ass attitude.

Also, the fact that she had personally asked that Kurt attend one of her 'events' made his heart skip a beat every time he thought about it. Hence the last two days of spa and beauty treatments whose end results would see Kurt at his glowing best. He had been shaved, pummeled, pounded, waxed and creamed to within an inch of his life. Now he was getting the final touch, a relaxing massage from his favorite masseuse.

When Erin was finished with him, Kurt had one last thing to do; the sauna was a ritual for him. The fragrant steam extended the feeling of relaxation that the massage had given him while sweating any remaining toxins from him. He had done a two-day cleanse as well and now he felt light and fit and ready to take on anything that LaMontaigne could throw at him.

* * *

Friday morning found Kurt stepping from the town car and looking toward a gleaming white private jet that looked sleek and fast. He shook his head as he stared at the aeronautical beauty before him and then turned to admonish the chauffeur who was handing his luggage off to the stewards.

"Please, be careful; that's delicate stuff in there!" He smiled to take some of the sting from his words but he was serious. He had found a delicate figurine that he thought his hostess might appreciate and had it wrapped in miles of bubble wrap within his hand luggage. "In fact, I'll keep it with me. No, no, it's fine, I'll take it."

The steward handed the square Globetrotter Domino Limited Edition case which probably cost more than half a year's salary. Kurt smiled his thanks and indicated that his makeup case would be with him too but the rest could go in the luggage compartment. The young man nodded and moved off, trundling the pile of luggage before him.

Kurt strode behind him and then headed up into the plane, breathing in the cool air of the plane's interior. He smiled at the welcome from the other steward and was led to where his other colleagues from Arena were already seated. Greetings flew back and forth amid requests and instructions and finally Kurt was able to remove his ivory trench coat and settle into one of the decadently luxurious seats.

He was dressed today in shades of white from the thin silk/cashmere tee that was almost the color of his skin to the comfortable cream-colored suede boots gracing his feet. He wasn't wearing jeans today but cream pants in a relaxed wool/polyester blend that nevertheless hugged his thighs and showed off his body to advantage. Sometimes he felt like dressing in a theme; one day he'd be in shades of blue, another day, rust and today, white. He knew he looked cool and elegant and he'd chosen the fabric of all his pieces because they would still look fresh at the end of a ten-hour flight.

Kurt eyed his two colleagues and nodded to himself in approval. The girl, Lyssa, was of Asian descent and shared with Kurt that serene facial expression that always seemed to intrigue people. A lover had once described Kurt as being Sphinx-like and he'd been rather pleased and took it as a compliment. Lyssa, too, was graceful in her movement, always seeming as if she were dancing rather than simply walking. Maybe she heard music in her head all the time, Kurt wondered sometimes.

The other was a large, muscular blond of Nordic appearance. Kurt never understood how someone who could tan so darkly had such white-blond hair. Ken (and he rolled his eyes when anyone made a Barbie reference) was pretty talkative, more than enough to fill the silence between Lyssa and Kurt, spending much of the pre-flight time outlining all the features of their hostess' beautiful aircraft.

"Do you know this baby can go nearly the speed of sound?" Smiling at the way Kurt's eyebrows rose slightly and Lyssa's big eyes widened further, Ken nodded smugly. "Oh, yes, no other Gulfstream – or business jet for that matter – will get you closer to Mach 1."

Kurt smirked inwardly at the avid light in Ken's eyes which reminded him so much of Finn when he was on a roll about his favorite football team. He sipped at his drink that a steward had brought and listened to Ken wax almost lyrical about the jet.

"And this isn't even the biggest jet she owns," Ken was saying now. "Oh, no, LaMontaigne owns three more, each bigger than the last."

Kurt knew this but he let Ken continue his roll until Kurt decided it was time Lyssa got a word in. He turned to look at her, leaving Ken to peruse one of the many in-flight magazines that were lying around.

"Is this your first time to France, Lys?" They had always got on fairly well, not that their paths crossed often. They would all meet, of course, when Arena held their customary meet-and-mingle parties; that was how the staff of the agency networked. They often exchanged little tidbits of information on various clients, hoping it would help someone else if they got assigned say, a particularly difficult client.

Lyssa shook her head and smiled at Kurt, her small even white teeth contrasting beautifully with her naturally dark red lips. She probably didn't even need to wear anything but clear gloss, Kurt thought almost enviously.

"No, I used to visit family when I was little. I speak a little of the language but I'm not very fluent." Her voice was light and musical and Kurt couldn't help thinking of those paintings by Gauguin of Tahitian women with their warm brown skin and long, glossy hair with flowers behind their ears.

Kurt nodded but said, "I'm actually fluent; it's the one language that I fell in love with when I was little." They smiled at each other and then Kurt looked up at the sound of voices at the door to the aircraft.

They were joined by the captain and his co-pilot who introduced themselves and let them know that they were about to depart and that, with a good headwind, they would arrive in France in time for supper.

Kurt settled in to relax and eventually sleep; he wanted to be refreshed at the end of this transatlantic flight. He retrieved his cosmetic case and from it he took his white noise-generating headphones, high-tech devices that blocked out more than 90 per cent of the cabin noise. The aircraft was relatively quiet as it was high-end model but still, for good REM sleep, he needed almost complete silence.

He followed that with his eye mask made from cool satin, smiling at Lyssa as he saw her doing the same thing. Only Ken still sat there spewing every thought that came into his handsome head. Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled; it took all kinds of people, he reminded himself.

As he relaxed, waiting for the captain to announce their takeoff, his mind wandered ahead, trying to imagine who else Diane had invited. While he had never met her, he had definitely done his research, starting with her background. He was fascinated by her intellectual prowess but also by the fact that she seemed to have the soul of an artist. She made a habit of buying up luxury homes around the world and turning them into mini-museums. Diane LaMontaigne was the kind of person you would never get tired of talking to, he pondered, and hoped he would get the opportunity at some point over the next few days.

Their destination was the Chateau deLaReine in the famous Loire Valley and Kurt felt a little thrill of excitement. He was not a stranger to beautiful, luxurious dwellings but how many people got a chance to spend a week at a world-famous chateau dating back to the 16th Century? deLaReine had been the hunting lodge of one of France's young kings, despite the name. It seems even royalty had crushes and the young monarch had named the lodge for his wife who, unfortunately had been in love with someone else.

The magnificent structure, Kurt had discovered, housed some 400 rooms. The castle, for that is what it really was, had been added onto over the centuries and now was one of the most beautiful buildings ever constructed. Diane's family had come into ownership a couple of generations back and she had lavished her own money on refurbishing it, bringing it back into its former glory. Rumor had it, too, that she had made certain rather interesting additions; playrooms outfitted as dungeons for certain 'parties' were what people whispered about.

The captain finally announced their imminent departure and Ken finally shut up. The stewards came around to check if anyone needed anything and then they all buckled in for the take-off.

As they began their taxi from the hangar onto the runway, Kurt wondered what awaited him in France. This wouldn't be his first time at an extended house party that would involve sex of the non-stop variety. What intrigued him most was the thought of the people he would meet. If they were of the caliber of Diane LaMontaigne, he was in for a fascinating time – all the sweating and moaning aside.

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**oOo**

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The drive from the airport to the château was long and picturesque. Kurt and his Arena colleagues were met by a large and impressive Bentley into which they and their luggage were stowed before being whisked away.

Their chauffeur was surprisingly chatty; he filled them on the history of the Loire valley as well as that of the château. Kurt was fascinated by history and architecture; well, he found everything fascinating, actually. It was one of the things that made him so sought-after as an escort. He really wasn't hired just for his looks or ability to please in bed. He was known to be intelligent and well-read with a lightly sarcastic sense of humor that, strangely enough, appealed to many people.

He listened avidly to their driver as he stared out at the passing landscape. The Loire Valley was chockfull of castles; no self-respecting high school French student could forget that. It was a beautiful region in a country famous for its beauty as well as its cuisine and wines. Kurt took a deep breath, barely able to hold back his grin. However, he was not going to have time to play the tourist here because the bottom line was, he was here on an 'assignment'.

Still, he was going to be staying in one of the area's most famous castles so that would more than make up for the fact that he wouldn't be spending any time touring. Just as he reminded himself of that fact, the huge car turned through massive wrought-iron gates and they were trundling along a tree-lined road. They all leaned forward, craning their necks to get a first glimpse of the château and when they did, they barely held back gasps.

Château deLaReine was absolutely breathtaking. The many architects down through the centuries had undoubtedly added their own unique touches in the extensions but they all seemed to have held to a specific central theme. The skyline of the castle looked just like the skyline of a famous Middle Eastern city and drew the eye upward.

The car finally came to a stop in a huge courtyard and the three disembarked with their heads craned back on their necks. Kurt knew the castle was one of the largest in the region but reading about it and actually seeing it were two very different things.

"Wow!" Ken was the first to actually say anything and Kurt chuckled breathlessly but before he could add his own comment, they were greeted by a well-dressed gentleman who addressed them in slightly accented but perfect English.

"Mademoiselle, messieurs, welcome to the Château deLaReine. Madame is awaiting you in the main salon. Will you follow me, please?"

Kurt nodded and fell into step behind him, his eyes only a little wide as he took in the grandeur of one of the world's most famous residences. It was no surprise that everything was sumptuous and well cared for and he felt his excitement move up a notch. Their footsteps echoed on the beautiful tile floor but were strangely muffled by the huge, gorgeous tapestries on the walls that apparently depicted various moments in France's history.

After about two minutes of brisk walking, they approached a pair of pale blue enameled doors trimmed in gilt that looked as if they belonged to the original 16th century structure, and their escort threw the doors open and stepped aside.

Kurt, Lyssa and Ken walked slowly inside and then their eyes were drawn to the figure rising from a beautiful antique desk who turned to greet them.

"Welcome, welcome, it's a pleasure to have you here! I am Diane and you must be Kurt!"

Whatever Kurt was expecting, it wasn't this. Diane LaMontaigne was one of the richest, most formidable women in the world but she was nothing like her public persona apparently. He relaxed and smiled widely at her, extending his hand to meet hers and grasped it warmly.

Really, he shouldn't have been so surprised that he was being enveloped in a warm, charismatic personality because he knew on an intellectual level that many successful people did, indeed, have that trait. He just hadn't been prepared and he suppressed a little chuckle as she shook his hand and then turned to greet the others.

Lyssa blushed and Ken preened, such was the power of Diane's personality and Kurt smirked at the others as they looked a little flustered at meeting one of the most famous people ever.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Thank you for inviting us, Diane. You have a beautiful home!"

The words may have been the standard ones given to any host or hostess upon meeting them but Kurt imbued them with his own charm and warmth and Diane grinned at him as she looked around at her own salon.

"Oh, this old thing!" and they all laughed. She leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "You wouldn't believe the heating bills for a place like this," and she laughed again, waving them to take seats on the comfortable sofas dotted about the room.

She turned to tug at a tapestry pull and when a member of her staff appeared almost immediately, she ordered refreshments, first looking at the others to see if they were ready. At their nods she indicated tea and when the man left, closing the doors behind him, she turned to Kurt.

"I suppose you must be wondering why I invited you all here?" At their polite nods, she smiled and continued. "I have a few people coming tomorrow, particular friends of mine and when I was in New York earlier this week, I caught a glimpse of you, Kurt."

Kurt prided himself on his sophistication but he was genuinely startled and only just refrained from blurting, "Me?" Instead, though his eyes widened slightly, he simply nodded and waited for her to continue. The others, though, were more than curious as to why they were also chosen.

Diane laughed softly and her bright blue eyes twinkled in her smooth face. "Yes, the gala earlier this week?" She watched as Kurt recollected the night he had been at the gala with his prince; the same night he had seen Puck again for the first time in nearly eight years.

He smiled now, his eyes lighting with interest. "Oh yes, the Beekerman ball; but I don't recall seeing you…" and he chuckled along with her. "Oh, you were in costume, too."

Diane nodded and crossed long, still elegant legs. She was dressed rather conservatively, he thought, but realized that most super-rich people didn't always dress as if they were heading to a gala every moment of every day.

"Yes, and since I had planned this little 'ancient Rome' entertainment of mine, it struck me – or rather, your stunning appearance that night gave me the idea to invite you."

Kurt knew better than to ask how she'd known who or what he did because people of her ilk had any number of resources at her fingertips. Money unlocked many mouths as well as doors in this world.

She glanced at the other two who had been quiet the whole time she'd been conversing with Kurt and she smiled graciously at them. "Your 'manager' was kind enough to suggest Ken, is it, and Lyssa, as well."

Kurt nodded, wondering if she had specified body types in a sort of grocery list but banished the thought. There was no need to dehumanize anyone, though there were many people inside and out of the business who were inclined to do so. He did not define himself by his occupation as he had a very healthy self-esteem. He always had, even as a teenager when so many people struggled to find their identity.

Just then a little knock at the doors sounded before they were opened by a man who Kurt thought of as the butler. He was followed in by a maid in uniform pushing a large tea cart laden with platters of scrumptious sandwiches, tea cakes and a large teapot.

Diane thanked her staff and began to serve them, smiling as she handed the first cup and saucer to Lyssa. "I hold to many British traditions here simply because I fell in love with them years ago. I attended boarding school in England as a child."

Kurt knew this, of course, thanks to his research but he nodded and looked at her interestedly. "Thank you," he murmured as he took his own cup of tea. "I've always been fascinated by that concept; sending little kids away from their parents, growing up with a bunch of strangers…"

She chuckled but shook her head, handing Ken his cup. "Oh, it's not as bad as it sounds. Of course, the homesickness is natural but one does move on. I like to think it made us more self-sufficient at a much younger age than if we were coddled at home until we were eighteen," and she quirked her eyebrow at the three Americans sitting before her.

Kurt laughed, genuinely amused by her subtle dig and nodded as he helped himself to the sandwiches. "I know, we Americans are pretty much wrapped in cotton wool until being unceremoniously kicked out of the nest for college. I think that's why so many of us waste our college years, y'know. The sudden freedom goes to our heads."

Tea time was one European tradition that Kurt definitely liked and sometimes had commented that America shouldn't have kicked that tradition when they won the War of Independence. Another tradition he'd heard and read about and thought America could use was the siesta. He was a night person anyway so the thought of taking a break in the hottest part of the afternoon and then re-starting in the evening appealed to him immensely.

Now, though, he listened as Diane told them about the people they were going to be meeting and 'entertaining' the next day.

Kurt was fascinated to know that of the six people invited, four of them were super famous and likely to travel with their own entourages. Of course, the château was more than large enough to accommodate everyone, what with its 400-plus bedrooms and suites.

Diane sat back, genuinely enjoying the chat with the three Americans and eyed them interestedly. Kurt had no way of knowing that she was mentally pairing them off with her imminent guests, having an idea of who would appeal to whom.

She looked at Kurt first, watching the way he spoke so animatedly, his usually pale skin flushed delicately pink with excitement and his unusual eyes gleaming in the warm lighting of the salon. He really was a delicious-looking boy, she thought even as she nodded to whatever he was saying.

His coloring really intrigued her; he reminded her somewhat of the fairy tales of her youth. His skin was porcelain fair, his lips were flushed pink sometimes red and his hair was a gleaming dark mahogany that showed chestnut in some lighting. When she'd seen him at the Beekermans' affair, she'd experienced a little fillip of excitement because of his androgynous appearance.

She turned her attention surreptitiously to the other two. Lyssa was a perfect little mouthful she thought; petite with lovely, smooth dark skin and gorgeous hair, Diane knew she would appeal to quite a number of her guests.

Finally, there was Ken who bore a striking resemblance to a once well-known Swedish action movie star. In fact, as she watched him listening to Kurt and adding a comment here and there, he could very well have gone in that direction if he had wanted to, she thought. She did not know or begin to understand the vagaries of Hollywood and the movie-making business but she would have thought someone would have snapped up the living Ken-doll already.

When the conversation wound down and the staff had removed the detritus of their tea, she summoned her butler again. When he appeared she smiled at the three and said, "Marcel will show you to your rooms and then we meet again for dinner at 7."

They took their leave of her, Kurt the last to leave the room, and she eyed him appreciatively with a little smile as he left. He really was rather eye-catching, she thought, and then immediately wondered how good he was at his job. His manager had said he was the agent's finest escort because he had a brilliant mind and she had to admit she was looking forward to finding out how true that accolade was.

* * *

Kurt, Lyssa and Ken followed Marcel as he showed them to the wing in which they would be housed for the next several days and they barely held back their awe. Each of them had adjoining full suites and Kurt once again marveled at how the very wealthy lived. His accommodations were almost the same size as his penthouse suite back home! He walked in to find his things awaiting him and he hurried to check if the gift he'd brought was safe. He sighed in relief to see that it was intact, set it aside out of the way and then strolled around the vast space.

He threw open the French windows and stepped out onto the balcony, feeling as if he were royalty about to wave to the assembled masses below. He giggled at his fancifulness and then turned to go back inside. As he removed the layers of his outfit and shrugged into the robe that was lying on the bed, he realized that he hadn't thought of Puck in at least the last half hour. Yeah, big improvement, he mocked himself as he threw himself onto the large bed.

He rolled over onto his stomach and allowed himself to relax, wondering what Puck would think if he could see him now, knowing why he was there. Kurt was in no way ashamed of what he did; as he'd indicated to Noah, he was good at what he did and he was not a prude. He enjoyed the rush of power he received at the thought of reducing men – and women – to quivering mounds of flesh panting for him. Maybe in a couple of years he would want to move on to something else, maybe something more challenging but right now he was having fun.

_You could be having fun with Noah,_ his wayward mind ambushed him again and he let out a curse, which was unusual for him.

'Get out of my head, bitch!' He flung himself onto his back and, realizing that he was not achieving the level of relaxation he was aiming for, decided to draw himself a bath. He slid off of the bed and padded into the _en suite_, stopping in the doorway with his mouth open. 'What the_?!'

"Oh, sorry, m'sieur!" A maid leapt up from where she was kneeling at the side of the bath, her eyes wide as she saw Kurt in his bathrobe. "Madame said you would probably want to bath before resting?"

Kurt eyed her, his heartbeat slowing down. He hadn't heard anything from in the bedroom so he had been quite startled to find he hadn't been alone in the suite. He glanced around and noticed for the first time that there was a door which apparently led out into the hall. He frowned and nodded to the door.

"From now on, only come in here if I'm not in the suite, okay?"

The little maid bobbed a curtsey (for crying out loud!) and waited with her hands twining around each other. He raised an eyebrow at her as he stepped closer into the huge room. It was really a beautifully-appointed space, almost a mini spa and the bath itself was big enough to hold at least four people. Right now it was filling with fragrant, steaming water and he tugged at the cloth of his robe, thinking the maid would get the hint and leave.

To his surprise, she stepped forward, gently moved his hands out of the way and completed the untying of his belt. He admitted to being a little thrown off his stride because by the time he reacted, she'd moved behind him to slide the thick, soft fabric down his arms. She turned aside to lay the robe onto a gorgeous chaise longue and Kurt stuttered, "Excuse me…?"

The maid moved back towards him, planting herself right in front of him and her eyes, big and dark, stared avidly at him. "I'm here for you, m'sieur. Did you not know?" and before he could utter a word, she tugged at the zipper on the front of her uniform and stepped out of the dress.

Kurt gaped at her, watching as her dark head bowed as she removed her shoes. She straightened up to stand before him in rather expensive and seductive lingerie. If she was just a maid he would eat his favorite leather jacket!

"Uhm," he waved a vague hand at the still-filling tub. "Really, I've been bathing myself since I was five. What…?"

She smiled, saying, "My name is Yana, M'sieur Kurt, and Madame chose me for you."

She stood proudly in her near nakedness, secure in her beauty and Kurt took a deep breath. He knew what he was here for, he just hadn't thought that he would be 'pampered' in such a way by his hostess. However, he was a quick study so now he smiled down at the beauty before him and said, "It will be my pleasure to know you, Yana."

Yana felt her pulse quicken as the man before her seemed to become someone else entirely, someone sexy and confident and not the wide-eyed boy that had stepped into the _en suite_.

Kurt's hands went up and around her back to unhook the lacy brassiere that cupped her high, firm breasts and he felt a little smug as she caught her breath. They were standing fairly close but when he removed the bra, he stepped closer so that the tips of her breasts brushed his chest when she automatically breathed in.

Yana felt her nipples tighten and her lips parted as she took a deep breath. This man hadn't touched her yet and already she could feel herself dampen.

Kurt stepped back, confident in his own nakedness and then fell to his knees. His hands reached up to unhook the garter that held up her sheer stockings and he looked all the way up her body to catch her eyes.

He smiled as her breath quickened, knowing that his sexual charisma resonated in her, setting off ripples of arousal in her body like the reverberations of a gong.

"You are very beautiful, Yana; I'm grateful to Madame." His voice had grown a little husky as he'd become aroused and he knew it was one of his most attractive features. He smiled as her cheeks pinked and when he'd finished removing her stockings, he moved his hands to her hips, to the narrow fabric of her thong. He raised his eyebrows at her as if to say, "may I?" and almost laughed at the dazed way she nodded permission.

He didn't really need permission as she was admittedly there for his pleasure but he'd discovered over the years that women especially liked to feel they were in control of that last barrier to fall.

He got to his feet and then moved towards the bath; when he stepped in he held his hand out to her, ever the gentleman, and helped her in.

Yana felt the color move from her face down to her chest; she'd never been with anyone who treated her so gently. She felt as if she were the lady of the manor, not just a maid who had a 'special' job in this strange household.

Kurt settled into the warm, fragrant water, turned off the tap and then pulled Yana toward him with her back to his chest. She started to protest because, after all, she was here for him, but Kurt shushed her.

"Shhh, let me…" his lips brushed her ear and he felt her shudder. His hands cupped some of the nearly too-hot water and poured it over her firm breasts, making sure not to touch her nipples yet. He felt her squirm a little impatiently and he chuckled. "You will please me by letting me please you, understand?"

Yana nodded but bit her plump bottom lip. This man was already driving her crazy and she tried to still her body from squirming again. She let her hands grip the sides of the tub instead of his leg and rested her head back against his shoulder.

Kurt hummed in appreciation of the warm, solid feel of the woman lying against him. He had certainly never imagined he'd be sharing a relaxing bath with anyone but this was wonderful, he thought. He continued to hum a little tune as he scooped water up onto Yana's chest. He could feel her tensing because of her arousal but he was in no hurry for things to end.

He moved her hair out of the way and placed a soft kiss on the nape of her neck, relishing the gasp she made. At the same time, he cupped her breasts and squeezed them, chuckling at her louder gasp.

He was fully hard by this time, having been turned on from the moment he'd started undressing her. She was like an unexpected gift left by his very considerate hostess and he was enjoying himself.

Yana could feel the man's cock pressing against her lower back and she squirmed back against it, dying to feel it inside her pulsing cunt. She'd never been turned on so fast in her life and she gasped again when one of his large yet gentle hands slid down her body, below the water and onto her shaved mound.

"Uhm, yesss," she whispered, totally unaware that she was even speaking and she writhed, pushing herself into his hand. One slender finger slid down to her clit and she cried out again, shifting so that it slipped softly inside her. "Oh, god, yes, please."

Kurt nipped at her nape and then, removing his hands from her, urged her to turn around, which she did hurriedly. He gazed up into her flushed face, her eyes huge and dark and her mouth open in a pant.

He stared at her intently and then asked, "Is it okay?" He hoped she realized he meant if she were clean because they were going to do this bareback.

She nodded, her hair flipping about her head wildly as she straddled him. "Yes, yes, I'm clean; please, m'sieur!"

Kurt smiled and gripped her smooth hips, lifting her easily and setting her in the right spot. He caught his breath as she slid down around him, the tightest, hottest, smooth, wet glove and smiled again as she gasped.

Yana bit her lip to stop from crying out. He was huge! She hadn't really examined him when she'd stood before him and if she'd done so, she would have been prepared, but sweet Mary, he felt so good!

Her hands gripped the porcelain of the tub again as she sank slowly down on him, feeling her channel stretch to accommodate him. Her head went back and her whole body flushed as she felt her bottom come to rest on the top of his muscular thighs.

Kurt soothed her as she shuddered; he knew he was a bit bigger than people expected and he'd seen the way her eyes had widened as she'd taken him inside her.

"You're good, you're okay, just slow down," he said now, his voice low and sultry and then he leaned forward to take one plump dark nipple into his mouth. He suckled it, licking and tickling it before he nipped it softly, grinning against her skin as she cried out. He knew from his own sensitivity that, treated just right, it felt like a line of lightning went straight from the nipple to one's crotch.

He lavished attention on that bud before turning to give its twin the same treatment. Yana writhed on top of him, riding him as the water sloshed around them. Kurt could feel her muscles fluttering tightly around him and he groaned as her hips rotated in a move he particularly loved.

His hands kneaded her ass, helping to grind her swollen clit against him and the sounds of their moans and cries echoed around the huge, steamy room. He knew she was close from the way her breathing hitched and when he thought she was right on the edge, he slid one long, slender digit into her ass.

Yana cried out and came, thrashing on him and squeezing him so tightly that he erupted inside of her, his head going back as he cried out. He pulsed into her, short jets of come that she couldn't actually feel apart from the swelling of his cock deep inside her. Her head crashed down onto his shoulder and she rolled her hips to wring the last of his ejaculate from him and finally she panted, pulling back to smile, sated, at him.

Kurt grinned at her, his breath harsh but slowing as they let the still-warm water soothe them.

Yana smiled down at the beautiful man beneath her and mentally thanked her mistress for the gift. It wasn't often that she enjoyed helping the guests relax but this American was the best. She hoped she would get another chance to help him but now she eased back, smiling apologetically as she rose from the water.

"Is there anything else I may help you with, m'sieur?" She stood dripping by the side of the tub, aware that her uniform was no doubt very wrinkled but she didn't have the energy to care.

Kurt looked at her from half-lidded eyes but shook his head. "Not now, no, Yana; that was great!"

He laughed as she blushed and he wondered for the first time how old she was. 'Hmmm, old enough to get you off, so don't even ask,' the snarky bitch in his mind told him. He ignored the voice and lifted a languid hand to stroke up the inside of one of Yana's smooth thighs.

Yana's breath caught in her throat as his hand came to rest on her mound, stroking her almost as if she were a pet. She widened her stance invitingly and held back a shudder as his finger stroked her slowly. Oh, god, she could definitely go again but she couldn't be greedy.

"I think I'm really relaxed now but I might need this again tomorrow," and he smiled up at her, genuine interest in his blue-green eyes. He removed his hand and sat up, pulling the lever to drain the tub before filling it again. He wanted to relax and savor this encounter so he nodded at her in dismissal, saying, "Thank you, Yana."

Yana nodded and grinned at him, her body humming with pleasure and she stepped into her uniform without bothering with the underwear. She bade him a good evening and slipped out of the door to the hallway, locking it behind her. This American was not like the others she'd heard about. He had almost something European about him and she giggled as she ran towards the servants' wing, already looking forward to helping 'M'sieur Kurt' to relax again.

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**TBC**

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**PLEASE REVIEW – IT MAKES ME AS HAPPY AS YANA!**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Escort**

**Chapter Six**

By Kurtofsky4eva

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**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM. Kurt/Puck

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

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Dinner that night was a low-key affair, though the food was undoubtedly sumptuous. Kurt, however, was far more interested in what was expected of them, of him, and to that end he questioned Diane in subtle fashion.

"I'm sure you're aware of my – uhm, skills?" He eyed his hostess with a smile in his azure eyes, his lips curved invitingly. He was not trying to seduce her, at least not sexually, but he'd discovered from an early age that people responded to him when he wore a certain facial expression. He'd been told he looked sometimes like a Botticelli angel and he, being a curious lad, had looked up the painter on the Internet. He had been struck by the fact that the angels looked androgynous, somewhat like him and he read further that some people thought angels had no gender.

Now he added a subtle hint of sexuality to faintly corrupt his angelic look and further increase his hostess's fascination with him. All it really required was a hint of mischief behind his wide, curious gaze and he giggled inwardly as Diane tuned the others out to focus on him. So he was an attention hog, he admitted it.

Diane smiled at her beautiful – she paused in her mind, working out exactly what Kurt and the others were – guest, she settled on. It was more gracious to think of them that way, even though she was paying the agency a small fortune to have them there.

"_Certainement, mon cher_, you are one of the most intriguing people it has been my pleasure to meet." She chuckled as faint color washed his cheeks. Ahhh, he was not as jaded as he would have people think, she thought delightedly before continuing. "I'm rather hoping, though, that you will show us a wide range of your talents over the next few days."

Kurt tilted his head and pursed his lips in a slight 'o', staring at her curiously. Diane nodded and then looked at the others.

"You are obviously here to entertain my guests but given how uniquely positioned you are in your agency, I believe you have talents that are above the ordinary in the arts and sports, yes?"

Kurt relaxed with a look of understanding flowing across his smooth face. "Oh, I see, yes, definitely!" He smiled at the others and nodded. "Lyssa is a fantastic artist and she specializes in body painting…" He trailed off to give Lyssa an opportunity to jump in and blow her own trumpet.

The girl smiled shyly as she nodded at their hostess. "Yes, it is an ancient art and I do it with henna or other pigments, whatever the individual desires."

Her soft voice was musical as usual and Diane found herself listening intently. Lyssa went on to describe the other areas of the arts that she loved and when Diane interrupted to ask about performing, she nodded.

"Yes, I play several instruments but my favourite is the mandolin," she blushed as she smiled at Kurt. "However, Kurt here is a beauty to watch and I often play for him in our spare time."

Diane turned knowing eyes on her favorite and smiled encouragingly. "Yes, I was told that you're also a performer in your own way, Kurt. Tell me more?"

Ken grinned as he watched the older woman almost devour Kurt with her eyes. It never failed to amaze him that people responded so randily to his friend's physical attractions. He himself was accustomed to people fawning all over his well-defined muscles and his beautiful blond hair but Kurt, to his mind, was only average in looks. Yet, both men and women often looked at the slender, pale-skinned courtesan with an acquisitive look they never turned in his direction.

Now he watched Kurt laugh, shaking his head and acting coy. Ken knew it was an act because Kurt wasn't the highest-paid escort in the agency for nothing. He had to turn away clients, he was so sought-after.

Kurt grinned at Lyssa and then at Diane before elaborating. "Some time ago, a friend of mine thought it would be fun to give me dance lessons."

He paused as he watched the light of curiosity spark in Diane's eyes. "Yes," she said. "Dance lessons are always good but, what kind of dancing did she mean?"

Kurt stayed silent while allowing his eyes to twinkle, and then he said, "You know what, as a treat for you and your guests, one day I will perform for you, if Lyssa will accompany me, that is."

Diane laughed and clasped her hands together. "Oh, I'm really curious now! You little scamp, you certainly know how to tease!"

Kurt opened his eyes in mock consternation, bringing his hands up to his mouth like a little child. As the servants came in to clear away the remains of their meal, he exclaimed, "Oh, no, Madame, it is only teasing if I had no intention of following through!"

Their laughter combined with the sounds of their chairs moving back as they all headed for the huge drawing room, Diane leading the way and chattering about the various guests and entertainments for the next few days.

The hours sped past and after enjoying a dessert of light but decadent éclairs and glasses of fine brandy, Kurt discovered that one of the guests would be a fashion designer. Diane refused to say who, probably in retaliation for his not divulging what his treat would be. Still, Kurt knew he would find lots to talk about on one of his most famous subjects, no matter who the designer would be.

As he prepared for bed in the wee hours of the morning, his mind ambushed him again and thoughts of Noah floated to the surface. He felt a twinge of sadness that he had left things the way he had; he could have handled everything so much more graciously he thought.

He settled into the king-sized bed, a small smile settling on his lips as he thought how fascinated Noah would be with this place. The history alone was fascinating and coupled with the beauty of its architecture, any writer worth the name would be absolutely blown away.

Determined to put Noah and his issues out of mind, Kurt settled onto his tummy, inhaling the scent of the pillow beneath him and allowed his body to relax, inch by inch. He wouldn't sleep the whole night that way; it was just to start off because sleeping face down would leave wrinkles on his face. His hand stroked the smooth, obviously expensive sheets and once again, the thought of caressing Noah like that waylaid him. He huffed at himself impatiently and deliberately brought to mind all that Diane had told them about their guests.

He fell asleep still planning his entertainment and anticipating the looks on everyone's face when he performed.

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**oOo**

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Later that day, feeling rested and refreshed, Kurt shook hands, smiled, hugged and air-kissed the newcomers until he thought his head would spin. Diane's guests were a friendly bunch and some even came with their personal assistants who seemed, on the whole, to be more like friends than employees. Kurt had been expecting a number of the guests to be full of their own importance but he was impressed that that was not how it turned out.

That night, Diane held a little soirée in the Rose Salon, moving from each little grouping of guests to the next, making certain everyone was introduced and everyone had all they needed. They had all been to her castle before for these same sorts of visits but they had not all been there together at the same time.

Now she moved over to take Kurt's elbow and excuse him to the designer, a lovely Asian boy with beautiful androgynous features, steering him towards an older, very distinguished-looking gentleman whose name had slipped Kurt.

Diane smiled widely as Kurt looked at her curiously but followed along as they wended their way through the room. Finally, stopping before the other man, Kurt held out his hand to the man as Diane said, "Henri, talk to Kurt for a minute, will you? He's a devotee of the stage, himself."

Kurt immediately remembered that this man was a famous French movie director who had worked with some of the world's most astounding artistes. His eyes lit up and he flushed when the older man lifted his hand to his lips. He sometimes didn't expect this gesture but so many European clients often did it.

Henri's eyes clung to Kurt's lips as he straightened, slowly releasing Kurt's hand and he smiled now. "Kurt, my dear, I've been watching you the whole evening. Will you sit with me?"

Kurt was impressed that he was asked this and it wasn't demanded of him, considering what he was here for. He nodded now, his eyes sparkling as he led them over to a love seat. Settling himself in, he crossed one of his long legs over the other unconsciously in his signature move, but aware of Henri's eyes on him.

"Tell me, who was your favorite actor to work with and who was the worst!" His bright voice blurted the question and Henri chuckled as he took Kurt's hand.

Gradually, Kurt came to realize, as Henri regaled him with tales of some of his most nightmarish experiences with the prima donnas of the film world – both male and female – that they had gathered an audience. The other guests laughed and asked their own questions, seemingly as fascinated with the film and theatre world as ordinary folk.

One guest, a woman with the most startlingly pink hair, a writer and scientist, Kurt was told, asked Kurt himself what he'd wanted to be when he was growing up. Kurt had blushed, for once hating his fair skin, and disclosed that he had always wanted to be a fashion designer or Broadway star.

He was thankful that his audience was rather sophisticated because no one asked him the inevitable follow-up; what happened why he was doing this now. Other people spoke up about their own childhood dreams, some amusing, some poignant and the evening drew to a close with everyone feeling as if they had been acquaintances for a long time.

Diane was rather happy with the evening's conversational ice-breaker and she held Kurt back when the others all said their good nights and retired upstairs. Kurt looked at her inquiringly and she smiled as she patted his face.

"Well, _mon chou_, tomorrow is when our festivities begin, yes?" She watched his face light up into a smile and continued. "Is everything to your liking?"

Kurt smiled at his hostess, happy that she seemed so taken with him. He nodded now and added, "Everything is wonderful; I couldn't want for anything, thank you."

She grasped his hand and walked with him out of the salon, passing servants still going about their jobs. She flicked a little look his way and then said softly, "A little bird told me that you really are quite adept at what you do…"

She waited for him to realize what she was referring to and then chuckled as his eyes widened.

Kurt remembered his 'welcome gift' and his cock twitched at the memory of Yana's luscious little body and the pleasure she'd brought him. Clearly, the girl had told her mistress of what had occurred. He nodded now at Diane with a small smile curving his lips.

"I'm grateful for the assistance in relaxing; it was a long flight and I slept like a baby afterwards."

Diane threw back her head and laughed, full-throated and loud; Kurt smiled as he watched her, enjoying her ability to let go and not be a stuffed shirt. Really, sometimes the very rich seemed just like ordinary folk, he thought as they made their way upstairs.

At the first landing, the stairs forked and when Kurt turned towards the guest wing, Diane let go of his hand reluctantly.

"Sleep well, dear Kurt; tomorrow is going to be a rather interesting day."

Kurt thought of something and looked back at her, his head tilting to the side as he made up his mind.

"You know, I think I'll unveil my little surprise tomorrow, if you don't mind. What time is the start of your 'festivities'?"

Diane's eyes lit up at the thought of her treat coming so soon. "Brunch will be around 10:30 so I thought maybe we could start things off around 1, maybe 2?"

Kurt nodded, running over in his mind what he would need to do to be ready for at least 2 o'clock. He smiled then at his hostess, leaned forward to drop a light kiss on her cheek and then announced, "I'll be ready for two o'clock, then. Sweet dreams," and he skipped lightly up the stairs, her soft chuckles following him.

He had to talk with Lyssa and maybe Ken in the morning as he had to put certain things into place. He knew this hulking pile they were staying in must have a room suitable for what he wanted to do. After all, Diane was famous for her little 'entertainments', whether set in Roman times or not. He hummed to himself as he got ready for bed and he fell asleep this time without any disturbing thoughts of Noah Puckerman dancing in his head.

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**oOo**

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Diane admitted to herself that she was rather intrigued with what Kurt was planning. He and his colleagues hadn't come down to brunch and she realized what a smart idea that was on their part. It allowed a sense of anticipation to build among her guests who, from certain comments she'd overheard, were more than ready to start the proceedings.

She looked around the room Kurt had requested – via one of the servants – that she had prepared to his specifications. There were couches, some large and some small and chaise longues – enough for all the guests and even some of their entourage – scattered around the huge room. They were arranged before a large dais and interspersed among them were cushions on the tiled floor.

Along the edge of the room were tall, beautifully painted screens that depicted scenes of the Roman countryside. From behind them, the servants came and went through the concealed doors in much the same way it would have happened back in the days when Rome ruled the known world.

Diane was dressed – if you could call it that – in rather revealing, diaphanous robes designed like a toga. It bared her breasts yet managed to support them in a way that hid the fact that they were not as young and perky as they used to be. Her large nipples were rouged and her hair was dressed like that of the matrons of ancient Rome. She felt beautiful and the many bracelets she wore on both arms jangled as she moved gracefully about the room.

The other guests were somewhat similarly attired except that the personal assistants to the guests were dressed more as Roman servants did; their garments were so short that when they moved, they exposed the lower parts of their groin and buttocks. Everybody looked pleased and slightly aroused as they examined each other's bodies admiringly.

Diane finally took a seat on the center couch, arranging herself comfortably with her sandal-clad feet up and settled in to wait for Kurt's performance to begin. Soft music had been playing for a while as her house servants had moved about, serving the guests and their assistants wine from large pitchers that looked as if they came from an ancient Roman villa.

There was a soft murmur of anticipation as the other guests found suitable seating and gradually silence fell. The music swelled and Diane found herself fascinated that it had segued from a recording to a live performance. Lyssa must have sequestered herself somewhere behind one of the many screens that stood at the edge of the room and the sound of her mandolin moved eerily but sweetly through the room.

Diane was fascinated by those who had the talent to play … and play well. The castle's music room was full of instruments, some so exotic she didn't even know their names but occasionally a guest would entertain her. Now she was glad that Lyssa had found an instrument to her liking and Diane settled back to listen – and watch.

Lyssa's high voice started in counterpoint at first to what she was playing and the sound was vaguely Oriental. It was a beautiful piece and Diane and her guests found their concentration riveted to the music. Gradually though, they noticed the sound of small drums being added and they perked up because, in a very subtle way, the sound had changed. The rhythm brought by the drums made their blood pulse and slowly the mood in the room altered, becoming more sensual.

Suddenly, the sound of tinkling bells was added to the drum and mandolin and as the guests looked around – there was Kurt, appearing in their midst as he strode towards the center of the dais.

Diane's eyes gleamed – and no doubt the eyes of the guests because this was a Kurt they had not met before.

Kurt stood for long seconds as the music swelled around him, with his head hanging down, almost as if he were giving the audience time to admire the figure he cut up there, alone on his stage.

His long, pale, but well-muscled torso gleamed like marble under a fine layer of gold dust as the light played lovingly over his skin. He was deliciously pale but for his tight, pink nipples and Diane's pupils enlarged as she gazed at him. Down the center of his torso he had painted a faint, swirling design that widened as it went around his navel and then narrowed again to disappear along his treasure trail and into the waist of the low-slung garment. On both his biceps and his ankles he wore black bands that served to draw even more attention to his limbs.

Without warning, his stomach muscles rippled in time with the music and there was a faint gasp as the audience reacted to the sight. Their eyes were riveted to the way the black material clung to his hips along with a brass belt made of large, linked coins glittering in the light as he moved ever so slightly.

Next, he moved his arms – long and lightly muscled except his biceps which were rather impressive for one so slender. The movement seemed to ripple from the fingertips of one hand, up the arm, across broad shoulders and then down the other arm to those fingertips. Then he was still again but for the slight movement of his chest as he breathed.

With a sudden, strident sound from Lyssa's mandolin, Kurt jerked his head up and stared almost challengingly at his audience.

A sigh of appreciation went through the audience as they took in the beautiful face looking back at them with the faintest smile. Kurt had used kohl on his eyes, not too heavily but just enough to contrast nicely with his porcelain-fair skin and his brilliant eyes. His lips were rouged and around his tousled hair he wore a band of silver dotted with large, blue gems to match his eyes.

Diane found herself applauding although he hadn't started dancing yet, simply marveling at his exotic looks. Kurt suppressed a smile although his eyes twinkled in response to the ovation he was receiving and then he sobered slightly, obviously ready to get on with the show.

The guests settled in, certain now that they were in for a stunning performance to match the dancer's looks.

Lyssa started another tune, this time managing to make the mandolin sound alternately plaintive and aggressive as Kurt danced. It was clear they had worked together before because Kurt moved in time to all the changes in the exotic, unusual music.

Everyone watched avidly as Kurt treated them to a sensual yet masculine form of belly dancing. The long panels of material that hung from the brass belt swirled around him and when they occasionally parted, some of the guests would shift in their seats. This was because Kurt's legs had to be one of the most stunning parts of his anatomy. When he spun almost like a dervish, the material floated up and outward, revealing his legs in all their glory and further arousing his enthusiastic audience.

His legs were not only as pale and creamy as the rest of him, they were long and curvy, with the thigh muscles strong and bunching hypnotically as he moved. There was more than one guest sitting there imagining just how those legs would feel wrapped around them.

Kurt breathed evenly and deeply as he danced, feeling the energy from the audience changing as his movements changed. He gradually increased the tempo of his hips, interspersing that with sinuous movements of his torso that hinted at female belly-dancing. His teacher had wanted him to know that form as well, although he had complained he wasn't a girl. Still, he found that it had come in handy for his bisexual clients who were fascinated by the duality of his appearance.

Every now and again one or more of the guests would clap along with the music and there was an almost non-stop stream of soft exclamations and compliments as he danced. Kurt almost felt as if he were in a club and as he sank to his knees in a sudden, stunning move with his legs spread, he leaned back until his head was on the floor behind him. He drank in the gasps of amazement and the applause that erupted as his dance came to a riveting climax.

As the sound of the thudding drums and the mandolin came to a stop, the audience surged to its feet, Diane foremost but Kurt held his pose for seconds longer. Then he rose in one smooth movement that declared more than anything else how much control he had over every muscle in his body. There was a fresh burst of applause and laughter as he spun around and then bowed.

When he straightened up, his eyes landed on Diane and he raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Well?"

She laughed even as she continued clapping but Kurt turned to the screen and called Lyssa softly. She and Ken stepped out, still holding their instruments and they bowed, smiling and grinning at the well-entertained crowd.

"Bravo, Kurt! That was absolutely breathtaking. Thank you, Lyssa, Ken," Diane called now as she moved towards them, reaching Kurt first. She grasped his hand in both of hers and looked him over with more than a little lust in her eyes. Unfortunately, before she could say more, Henri was beside her, his eyes devouring Kurt as he stood there.

"Words cannot describe what you do to me, my dear," Henri's cultured voice was husky as he stared at Kurt. It was a testament to his breeding that his eyes did not rove down Kurt's half-naked body but he stared deeply into his eyes.

Kurt flushed and smiled, still breathing deeply after his exertions but he acknowledged Henri's words with a slight bow. "Thank you, you are kind…"

Henri held out a hand to Kurt who looked from Diane and back to him a little uncertainly. Diane laughed lightly, released Kurt's hand and said, "You need something cool to drink, _mon cher_; Henri will see to that, yes?"

She patted Henri on the shoulder and turned away, winking at the man knowingly as she turned back to the other guests. Lyssa and Ken were already circulating, chatting animatedly as they sipped from the goblets the servants were bringing around.

Henri retrieved two goblets of wine for Kurt and himself and they moved to an unoccupied couch, Henri with his hand in the small of Kurt's back.

Kurt loved the attention; he also loved the feeling of power that came over him whenever he performed. With the two feelings melding together inside of him, he subsided onto the couch, arranging himself so that the material of his costume parted and Henri got a good look at his thighs.

Henri swallowed hard before taking a sip of his cold wine, trying his best not to ogle the boy beside him. Kurt sat in silence, sipping his own wine thirstily and occasionally smiling down into the goblet. He wondered at Henri's sudden hesitance although he found it rather attractive. He had had his share of clients who pawed him and threw him about as if he were a blow-up doll so Henri's refinement appealed to him now.

He cleared his throat and then glanced beneath his lashes at the older man. "Have you ever seen Turkish belly-dancing?"

Kurt thought this was an innocuous enough opening and he congratulated himself when he saw how Henri relaxed a little before looking back at him.

Henri smiled gratefully for the question and launched into an anecdote about attending a good friend's wedding. Apparently, most of the guests had never seen belly-dancing apart from maybe on the television. When the women had come out, beautiful in their dazzling, jingling costumes, some of the guests hadn't known how to react.

"Believe me, though," Henri grinned as Kurt chuckled. "The most enthusiastic in that audience were the women! I would have thought there'd be some jealousy because those dancers were stunning. However, the women guests surprised us as some even got up and tried the moves themselves."

Kurt laughed at that, knowing what Henri meant. Women for some reason responded quite favorably to belly-dancing; maybe it was some ancient ancestral thing that made most women understand that belly dancing was nothing like pole-dancing in gentlemen's club. Those un-talented strip club dancers had almost brought the ancient art into disrepute. Luckily, there were enough computer-savvy practitioners out there who often uploaded real videos of belly dancing for the uninitiated to view.

They sipped their wine and then Henri added, "I've never seen a male dancer before, though. I don't think there'd be very many?"

Kurt nodded now as he lowered his empty goblet. "Yes, that's true, there aren't many male dancers in that field, but the few I've seen are anything but effeminate. In fact, most often it's referred to as tribal fusion."

He felt Henri's eyes return to his bare chest and he watched him trying not to let his eyes go lower to Kurt's exposed thighs. Kurt, repressing an impish grin, shifted in the seat, bringing one leg up onto the edge and widening his pose. He watched Henri's Adam's apple bob and then decided to take pity on him.

A passing waiter removed their empty goblets and both men declined fresh ones. Kurt moved again and settled back against the toga-clad man, sighing softly but loudly enough for him to hear.

Henri cleared his throat and then brought his arm up around Kurt's back and then slid his hand onto one hip. Kurt turned slightly to look seductively over his shoulder at Henri and murmured, "I've been waiting for you to touch me," and then closed the distance between their mouths.

Henri groaned softly, parting Kurt's wine-reddened lips and thrust his tongue within. Kurt sighed into the kiss and brought a hand up to tangle in Henri's hair. This brought their mouths closer and Kurt kissed him back as if he had been wanting this the whole day.

Henri's other hand came up Kurt's front and he let his fingers brush repeatedly across the dancer's chest, flicking at the tight buds. Kurt moaned at the feel and squirmed, feeling his dick hardening and then he wrenched their mouths apart.

Henri's brown eyes had darkened almost to black and he looked dazedly at Kurt. Kurt smiled at him before shifting around so that he was facing the other man. Then he climbed up, straddling Henri and oblivious to the guests who were watching rather than getting it on with each other. Kurt slid his arms around Henri's shoulders and aligned their hips, moaning softly as their arousals bumped and slid together.

He felt Henri's large hands go around to squeeze his arse and Kurt ground down onto his crotch, biting his lip as sensation rocketed through him. He vaguely wondered if Diane had added a little something extra to the wine because he was feeling incredibly horny. Kurt surged forward and they were kissing hungrily again, small sounds escaping them and heightening their arousal.

Across the room, Diane plucked and rolled a nipple between her long fingers, licking her lips as she watched Kurt and Henri grinding against each other. She was happy that things had started and as she watched, one of the other guests moved over to the two men. It was the beautiful Asian fashion designer and she should have guessed it would be him. He and Kurt would look beautiful together, she thought now as she watched him tug Kurt's head up and take the dancer's mouth in a fierce kiss.

She turned away from the ménage-a-trois developing across the room and looked at the action around the room. People had paired off or moved into groups, some of the personal assistants even getting in on things with their employers.

Movement beside her caught her attention and she looked up just in time for Ken to sink to his knees before her. She smiled at him, wondering what he had in mind and then gasped, her eyes closing as he slid his large hands up beneath her silk toga. Everyone was bare beneath their robes, of course, so his hands met no barriers as thick fingers slid inside her. She gasped, falling back against the arm of the couch as she widened her legs, inviting him closer.

Ken slid the material of Diane's robe up her thighs, alternately stroking the meaty flesh and then returning to finger her. She was already so wet and his cock tented his own robe as he lowered his mouth to her center.

Around them now were the inescapable sounds of many people getting quite intimate with each other. The sounds the others were making spurred them on; the scent of arousal hung heavy in the air and the servants closed the doors on it all. They knew not to come back for the next three or four hours, as their mistress and her guests had everything they could need right to hand.

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**oOo**

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Kurt relaxed in his tub, a half smile wreathing itself around his soft, kiss-swollen lips. The low-level hum of arousal was due entirely to the memory of the day's activities. His hands drifted through the hot, silky water and he slid lower down so he was completely submerged. He held his breath for a while, almost in a trance and then he resurfaced. He smiled again and let the water sluice off of his face and then opened his eyes.

"I'm going to turn into a prune if I stay here much longer," he muttered to himself before shampooing his hair and completing his bath routine. He stared at himself in the huge mirror and chuckled as he cleaned his teeth. There was nothing like a whole afternoon of sex to put one in a good mood, he thought sardonically as he eyed a couple of marks on his otherwise flawless skin.

Finishing up in the bathroom, he eschewed the robe hanging on the door and stepped into the bedroom stark naked. As he approached the bed, looking longingly at it as he went, he suddenly realized he was not alone.

Nearly leaping out of his skin, he clapped a hand against his heart and then panted before chuckling. "Oh, my goodness, Lyssa, you scared a year out of me!"

Lyssa uncurled from where she'd been reclining on the chaise at the foot of his bed and grinned at him. Her teeth gleamed against the rich coloring of his lips and she moved towards the other side of the bed.

"I just wanted to nap with you for a while. Is that okay?"

Kurt moved the counterpane out of the way and slid between it and the cool sheets. He loved sleeping naked on expensive sheets. He'd come a long way from his beloved cotton sheets in Lima, Ohio. He nodded now, suppressing a yawn and then smiled at his friend.

"Of course, it's okay. Where's Ken," he asked as he turned onto his side to look at her. She did look a little worn out. Well, that would do it if you were a little slip of a thing entertaining two men at a time and then going down on a woman for afters.

Lyssa yawned daintily and then shuffled back so that she was spooned up against Kurt. Kurt shifted so that she was comfortable and then buried his nose in her hair. This was not the first time they were sharing a bed for either comfort or sex and there was a wonderful sense of familiarity that they both appreciated.

Lyssa turned slightly to look over at her friend, smiling as she said, "I think Ken is with Diane; maybe he really likes her, huh?"

Kurt chuckled as he thought about it. "Mm-hmm, there's no accounting for attraction, really."

She nodded and then bumped her butt against his soft groin, giggling softly as he swatted her lightly on the hip.

"You're too worn out so don't start something you can't finish, missy," he said jokingly.

Lyssa stuck her tongue out and then declared, "We don't have to do anything energetic; just stick that pretty pink thing inside me and see what happens from there."

Kurt chuckled but reached down to grasp himself. He was already half-aroused so, anticipating the tight warmth of Lyssa's cunt, he was hard in seconds. He shifted his hips a bit and then sank into her slick depth, holding his breath at the delicious feeling and then relaxing as she snuggled back even closer.

True to her word, their coupling was slow, languorous and with just enough energy to bring them to a gentle yet satisfying climax. Thoroughly spent now, they fell asleep cuddled up like kittens, Kurt's shrinking dick still within her.

Anyone coming upon them would think they were siblings simply snuggling together. Such was the dynamic between them but sex for them was not only part of the job, but part of their recreation. If he thought about it, Kurt would have realized that his mindset was 180 degrees from what it had been in high school. Still, he was happy with his life, with the way things had turned out. The only ripple on the surface of his smooth existence was the memory of his feelings for Noah – and the fact that he could never risk falling in love with him.

.

**oOo**

.

Thousands of miles away, Noah stood staring out at the afternoon sky from his home office, the sky-high view encouraging his winging thoughts. He didn't know where Kurt was or what he was doing. All he knew right now was that there was a pain in his chest; even though he rubbed it, it wouldn't go away.

He sighed and turned away, his eyes on the laptop where his latest novel waited for the return of his undivided attention. He saved the document and closed it, uploaded it to a data stick and then opened a new, fresh document.

Noah sat staring at the screen for a long time, long enough for the shadows to change and then he started typing. This wasn't what his publisher and agent were expecting and he didn't know why he would write these words now but it was if they couldn't wait to come pouring out.

I.

'His were the bluest eyes I had ever seen – his smiling lips the pinkest; he was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. We were little kids, though; what would I know about beauty.

'Still, I went home that afternoon and when my mom, Naomi, came home I asked her, "Mom, can a boy be pretty?"'

.

**TBC**

.

**A/N: If you want an idea of what Kurt's dance looked like, check out the video of one the world's best male tribal fusion dancers at the 8****th**** Sommer Festival in Berlin, 2011, on YouTube.**


	7. Chapter 7

**The Escort**

**Chapter Seven**

By Kurtofsky4eva

* * *

**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM.

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

* * *

Life after Diane's party in France continued much the same way it usually did for Kurt. The 'games' had been extremely enjoyable and Kurt was sure he'd made a lifelong friend in Henri. On the last day of the festivities, Henri had approached him after breakfast, suggesting they take a walk in the gardens just off of the breakfast room.

Kurt had turned his face up to the clear light, taking in a deep breath of the fragrant air and then turned to look at his older companion. Henri, despite their vigorous activities, seemed much more rested and energized than when he'd arrived. Kurt smiled and waited for him to speak.

Henri, indicating a wrought-iron bench near some of the formal flower beds, waited for Kurt to seat himself before he sat as well. He knew Kurt wasn't female but he couldn't help his ingrained manners from treating him with the kind of courtesy usually reserved for women.

They looked out at the beds for a minute before Henri cleared his throat and reached for Kurt's hand. Kurt turned kind eyes upon his companion and his lips curved in his signature smile.

"You know," Henri began after a second or two of gazing at Kurt's face. "You have to be one of the most beautiful men I've met."

Kurt felt a faint jolt of both surprise and pleasure at that pronouncement. He inclined his head slightly in thanks but didn't speak, waiting for Henri to continue. The color was a little higher in the other man's cheeks but Kurt ignored it politely.

Henri continued: "I want you to consider something." He raised a hand as Kurt made to interrupt. "No, please, wait… I have a proposition for you," and he chuckled as one of Kurt's eyebrows went up his forehead. "No, not that kind; it's just that, if you ever decide you're tired of this… business… I want you to consider a film career."

Now Kurt did make a sound; to his embarrassment he couldn't decide if it came out as a chuckle or gurgle. He was just plainly surprised by Henri's words. He tilted his head and stared at the other man before smiling widely.

"That… that is not what I thought you were going to suggest, honestly," and they both chuckled as Henri eyed him knowingly. He continued, looking away briefly at the gorgeous floral display and then back at Henri. "You know I wanted a career on Broadway, yes?" He hummed when Henri nodded. "I must confess that I didn't think about switching to films. I mean, how many people like me do you see on the screen?"

Henri nodded; Kurt's looks were not the usual cookie-cutter sort that American producers seemed to look for. Nor did he look like an action star like his colleague Ken. Henri had noted that his hostess seemed to have monopolized that young man but he, himself, preferred to glut himself on Kurt's androgynous beauty.

He had had such intense experiences with Kurt that he'd sometimes feared for his heart's stamina. Kurt made him feel as if he could get lost in the heat of his luscious, clenching body and when he lay panting on the long, lightly muscled form he'd enjoyed caressing what felt like yards of hot, ivory, silken skin. Kurt was made to be a courtesan and had he been female and lived centuries before, he would have been the toast of Versailles.

Now Henri caressed the hand he held even as he shook his head at Kurt's deploring his looks _vis-à-vis_ what American producers wanted. He smiled at Kurt now, his eyes heating slightly as he examined the stunning blue eyes and then the soft, pink lips.

"Americans are rather simple-minded in their ideas of beauty, my dear. Europeans are not."

He watched as Kurt's cheeks pinked and he chuckled. "Had you been born centuries ago, you would have been quite successful at court."

Kurt shook his head, pleased with the assessment but still slightly disbelieving. "I'm male, Henri, don't forget that."

Henri looked at him with a slightly darkened gaze. "Oh, don't pigeon-hole the French, dear boy. We Europeans were not as puritanical about our pleasures as you Americans, even back then."

Kurt's eyes widened in understanding and then he began to chuckle with Henri. After they'd calmed down a bit, his eyes took on a faintly reminiscent look. "I remember reading very briefly about ancient Greece and Rome. People like me weren't automatically hated or shunned then, if I recall."

Henri nodded, his eyes lighting with enthusiasm. "Oh, no, the fluidity of sexuality was rather more accepted as natural and normal in those days, indeed, for many centuries. It was later that a stigma became attached to homosexuality, much to our detriment, I think."

They sat enjoying each other's company for a while and the fresh air before rising to go back inside. There was a sense of subdued bustle as servants and the guests' entourages got into the business of packing up as most were leaving that day. Kurt and his colleagues would be leaving later, also, and Kurt had a gift to give to his hostess.

Excusing himself from Henri and promising he would see him before he departed, Kurt skipped up the wide marble staircase to his wing, humming happily as he made his way along the gallery to his suite.

The gift he had found for Diane was very delicate and very special and he couldn't wait to see her face when he gave it to her. He knew she would love the beautiful Japanese Kannon figurine that he'd found. It was made of ivory and depicted the god/goddess of watchful listening and is often translated as "one who sees and/or hears all."

The depiction of a compassionate, beautiful woman was how the Japanese artist interpreted the goddess whose task it was to witness and listen to the prayers and cries of those in difficulty in the earthly realm, and to help them achieve salvation. Another Japanese name for Kannon is Kanzeon, the one who constantly surveys the world, listening for the sounds of suffering. It was later shortened to Kannon and as Kurt caressed the delicately carved figurine, he could imagine the comfort people found, even from just looking at it. He knew Diane would love it for her collection and he was immensely happy that he had found it in time for the trip to France.

Still, as he took the figurine from its padded case in which he had stowed it, his mind went back to the conversation with Henri.

_Hmmm, a film career,_ he thought as he caressed the little object. _I wonder if that could work,_ he mused, smiling to himself. He would definitely think on it but, for the time being, he was quite happy with his job.

The sound of vehicles arriving and departing, coupled with the buzz of many voices talking over each other came wafting up to his room and he moved over to the windows to stare down into the courtyard. The chateau really was rather beautiful and he indulged himself, probably influenced by Henri's words, in imagining himself, back in the days of the _belle époque_, a privileged son of the house.

After a while he shook himself from his fanciful musings, chiding himself for being such a girl and went to have a long soak. The next few hours would be rather hectic; intercontinental travel would need a few more decades before it became a swift, effortless jaunt across the pond.

.

**oOo**

.

On his return to New York, substantially more solvent than before he'd left, Kurt had met with his manager. Several of his clients had been asking after him and the man grinned as he eyed Kurt lounging across from him on his huge white leather sofa.

"You know, I'm going to have to make you partner one of these days," he said, watching Kurt closely to see his reaction. He wasn't disappointed as Kurt's head whipped around, his unusual eyes widening as he stared back.

"Me, why? I quite enjoy what I'm doing." Kurt wondered where this idea had come from.

His manager chuckled and raised a large, placating hand. He leaned back in his throne-like leather chair as he said, "You are almost as wealthy as I am, Kurt, a well-kept secret, I know. You could invest in the company and we could expand to other cities, if you want."

Kurt relaxed and turned to look back out at the famous skyline. His manager had an enviable view, one he always teased him about but now his mind wasn't on the city he'd come to love. He had never thought of himself as a businessman or investor although his portfolio was doing quite well. He had other people to handle that. Still, it was an intriguing idea; full partnership in a firm he loved, that wasn't too bad at all.

Now he looked back at his friend, colleague… boss? A soft smile curved his lips and then he nodded. "Okay," he breathed, "why not? It's not as if I'm going anywhere."

His manager clapped his hands together softly as if to get himself in a more businesslike mood and he straightened up. "Okay, I know you have a business manager and a lawyer; we could set up a meet and go over everything, get it all straight."

Kurt chuckled at his eager – partner? – and nodded. "Gosh, couldn't you give me some time to get my head around the idea?" He was only teasing; he knew the other man wouldn't have suggested it if he hadn't looked at it from every possible angle. It wasn't often one came across a scrupulous businessman but his future partner was just that. It was one of the reasons Kurt so enjoyed his life; he was doing something he loved and he genuinely liked the people he associated with.

_Life would be just perfect if…_ he broke off that line of thought, unaware that his eyes had darkened and the humor had left his face.

His manager watched him surreptitiously although he was ostensibly signing a couple of documents before him. Kurt was fascinating to him, even though he was completely hetero. The younger man before him had a face that was unusually open, except for when he was doing that Sphinx-like thing that so intrigued his clients. To him, though, Kurt was like an open book and he knew without asking that what troubled Kurt was a matter of the heart.

"You okay," he asked quietly, not wanting to startle Kurt. He sighed when Kurt's face immediately shuttered and a bright smile was hauled into place.

Kurt looked at his manager serenely. "Hey, of course, I'm okay. I've just become partners with one of the best people around. Why wouldn't I be?"

His manager chuckled resignedly. He knew Kurt was blowing smoke up his ass to distract him and he would allow it… for now. One day, though, he would get the story behind that faraway look in his friend's eyes. One day he would find out who put that look there.

.

**oOo**

.

"Noah Puckerman, thank you for joining us today!"

The thunderous applause from the studio audience had Noah grinning around after shaking the talk show host's hand. He waved to the cheering crowd as he remained standing for a bit and then he took his seat, smiling at the quieting audience and then turning to address the host.

"Thank you for having me. Wow, this is huge for me," he said in a charmingly boyish way and laughed when the audience roared and clapped again. They had to wait for them to settle down before the host could launch into his set questions.

Noah absolutely hated the whole publicity thing but his PR people insisted he do it whenever a new movie from one of his books came out. Thankfully book-signings were a whole lot less hectic and, consequently, more enjoyable for him. Now he took a sip of his water as he waited for his host's insincere TV smile to dim as he prepared to ask his questions.

"So, the fifth book and a fifth movie. Wow, how does it feel by now?" The man's icy blue eyes had a slight sheen of avidity as he stared at Noah. He had probably spoken to hundreds of guests like Noah but he for sure had never had one quite like him.

Noah's books were as violent as they were sexy but he was unique in that his protagonist was female. Rumor had it that quite a number of A-List actresses had fought over being able to be the one to portray the character on the big screen. Now this talk show host obviously wanted to grill Noah on that but he was restricted to asking only the approved questions.

Noah grinned at him as he took a deep breath and looked out at the audience. "It feels great every time one of my books makes it into print, John… and when it becomes a movie, damn, that's exciting."

Noah knew his friends would recognize the insincerity of his smile but people saw what they wanted to see. The fans – and there were certainly many of them in the audience tonight – were just glad to be in the same room with a famous author. He took another sip of his water and waved to a section of the audience, milking it for all it was worth.

Miles away, on the other coast, in fact, Kurt sat curled up on his huge couch, sipping a glass of wine as he watched Noah on the large flatscreen. Kurt had to admit he looked damn good and his traitorous heart did that stupid stutter thing as he watched the tanned face smiling at the audience.

Kurt made a slight scoffing sound at Noah's answer to the first question. He mightn't have been around the other man much since high school but he could still recognize when Noah didn't like someone. He watched him smirk at the audience before turning back to the host.

Noah looked really good, Kurt admitted. The camera definitely loved him and even when the host was talking, the cameraman still didn't pan toward him as he should; he stayed fixed on Noah, getting every little flicker of his dark eyes and twitch of his full lips. Every now and then, when the raucous audience reacted to something he said, the camera would switch angles and you'd get a shot of the crowd but, for the most part, it was Noah, center screen, all the time.

Back in the studio, Noah couldn't wait for the damn interview to end. All he really wanted was to head back to his hotel room, get his stuff and head home. The special manuscript he was working on – one he hadn't even told his agent about – seemed to call to him, like a lover he'd left behind. He wanted to get home and work on it, even though he suspected he would never publish it.

Now he smiled and turned towards the audience as the host called on the one individual who had won the right to ask his guest a question. Noah waited for the cameraman and sound guy to scurry over to the woman and waited, relaxed, for the no doubt inane question to be thrown at him.

A young woman stood, blushing as she grasped the microphone that the sound guy had handed to her and cleared her throat. The audience quieted as they watched her enviously and Noah nodded kindly at her to begin.

"Uhm, Noah, hi, I'm Karen."

"Hey, Karen, how are you?" Noah sipped his water after smiling at her. He just wanted this night to end, seriously, but no one could tell what he was thinking. The look on his face was of pure interest in what 'Karen' was about to ask him.

"So, I was wondering… since your latest novel – and I can't wait to see the movie! – is about events from your heroine's past, my question is: is there anything that you've ever regretted, that you would do over if you could?"

There was applause after Karen's question and Noah gulped quickly at his water as he gathered himself. He knew he shouldn't have agreed to this part of his appearance but it was a signature of this particular show and he couldn't do anything about it. Now he wished he could just yank off his mike and walk off the set.

Unbidden, the sight of Kurt walking away from him into his flat came to him. The hurt he'd felt at Kurt's words washed over him again and he struggled for a moment to keep his face impassive. Yes, there were things he would definitely do over if he could.

"Noah, ah, Karen, is it? Karen just asked…" the sound of the host's voice broke into his thoughts and he smiled automatically as he looked out at the audience. He interrupted his host and nodded at Karen.

"Wow, Karen, that's a great question." He thanked every god he could think of for his latent acting ability as he deliberately relaxed his face and smiled 'sincerely' at the girl still standing with the mike clutched in front of her.

"Uhm, yes, like anyone else, there are things I got up to, especially as a teen." The audience chuckled. "So, uh, yes, I can't tell you exactly what because that would be just too embarrassing!" He grinned as the audience laughed out loud at that.

The host, John, narrowed his eyes as he watched Noah Puckerman schmooze the audience and the girl who had sprung that question on him. Hmmm, there was something slightly off and his journalist's nose twitched at the whiff of a story hiding there behind Puckerman's seemingly relaxed stance. Maybe if he got one of his staff to look up Noah's background, check him out more thoroughly, maybe he could find out what had thrown off the arrogant SOB.

Noah, unaware of his host's thoughts, of course, finally wrapped up his answer and the band struck up the theme music as he turned back to the other man.

"Well, Noah Puckerman, thanks for coming by and good luck with both the book and the movie. Ladies and gentlemen, Noah Puckerman!"

The faint sound of the late-night New York traffic was muted as Kurt stared at the TV, watching Noah's sexy strut as he left the stage, stopping only briefly to greet and embrace the next guest to come on.

Kurt bit his lip as his eyes strayed up and down the man's admittedly fine body. Suddenly he shook himself and berated his wayward libido for even going there. There's no future there, you idiot, he muttered as he got up, turned off the TV and strolled over to the large French doors. The sight of the skyline always soothed him after a while and now was no different.

He leaned his forehead against the smooth glass and slowly, unwelcome tears pricked his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks. However, he took a shuddering breath and one last sip of wine before turning away.

He, too, had regrets and if he could turn back time, he would have gone back to the moment he rebuffed Noah after their dinner date. It hurt him then and it still hurt him now but he pulled himself together after a minute and then he got busy with his nighttime ablutions. Going through his moisturizing routine allowed him time to settle his thoughts before sliding into bed.

As he settled between the sheets, his eyes went to the clock on his bedside table. It was after two his time therefore it would be after 11 in L.A. The show had been live so he knew Noah would be heading out from the studio to his hotel room.

Kurt was thankful that he didn't have Noah's number or he knew, deep down, that he would have had to fight himself to stop from calling the other man. He'd thought that, having been to Diane's party in France, that it would have been enough to stomp down his feelings but that hadn't been the case.

Now he laid there, staring up at his ceiling and wondering what Noah was doing. Little did he know that he was not alone in his wondering.

Across the country, Noah was just walking into the hotel room and as he removed his jacket and placed it on the back of a chair, he moved over to the windows. He stood in unconscious imitation of Kurt's earlier stance and stared at the lights of the city. Inevitably, his mind went back to the question and the one thing he regretted most in his life.

Suddenly he reached for his phone and looked at it, debating with himself whether to call the number that he spent minutes each day staring at and torturing himself. Kurt had made it plain that he didn't want any contact with him but he couldn't help wondering if he was still angry with him.

Noah took a deep breath and pressed the keys, holding his breath; even though he knew New York was three hours ahead, Kurt was not an early bird. He crossed his fingers and waited as the phone on the other end buzzed, his mind chanting _'pick up, Kurt, please…'_

Kurt, rolling over and looking at the fancy antique phone on his bedside table, frowned to himself. He couldn't imagine who would be calling him so late and, against his better judgment, he reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

The silence that greeted his query made him frown and he said again, "Hello?"

He was about to hang up and the person on the other end must have realized it because suddenly…

"Kurt?"

Kurt's heart hammered and he sat up so suddenly his head felt woozy. The voice was so unexpected that for a second he blanked. Then he drew in a breath … "Noah? What_?"

Noah squeezed his eyes shut as Kurt's voice whispered in his ear. His breath left him in a gust as he said, "Kurt, please, don't hang up."

Kurt closed his eyes as he dropped his head into a shaking hand. He remained silent as he listened to the open line, wondering what was happening to them. Finally, Noah's voice came again and Kurt bit his lip as he listened to him in his darkened bedroom. The unsolicited intimacy of the situation was not lost on Kurt and his heart ached at the missed opportunities.

Noah's voice was quiet as he said, "I need to see you, Kurt… please, just for a couple of hours?"

Kurt sat, stunned, and when he didn't reply immediately, Noah spoke again. "I know you have no reason to want to see me but … I can't stop thinking about you… wanting…"

Kurt interrupted him now, the earlier tears returning. "Noah, you aren't thinking clearly." He knew his voice was shaking but he had to get the words out. "We really have nothing to say. Please, don't do this…"

Noah rubbed his chest where the pain was and when he realized Kurt was crying, he hurried to say, "Kurt, don't cry; I didn't mean to upset you. Please, I can't leave things the way they are. Don't you understand?"

Kurt was starting to get angry now and he wiped the tears away. He hated feeling vulnerable but unfortunately, Noah Puckerman was maybe the only person he could do that to him.

"I do understand, I do! I just don't think it would help anything for us to see each other. Please, don't call me again!"

He hung up the phone even as he heard Noah's voice calling to him, "Kurt!"

Kurt threw the handset down, not replacing it in its cradle and he flung himself backwards onto his pillow.

_How dare he do this to me!_ His silent scream was aimed at the uncaring ceiling, his mouth tight and his eyes large and wounded. What does he want? Absolution?

Kurt continued to rage for a minute or two, his legs pushing at the rumpled bedding and his hands clenched into fists. He finally dissolved into tears and at the start of the inevitable headache, he went into his _en suite_ to fetch a glass of water and the painkillers. Two Tylenol should take care of this, he thought as he swallowed the tablets. Replacing the glass on the counter, he stared at himself in the mirror, noting how wrecked he looked.

Noah Puckerman was turning into his very own _bête noire_, he realized. Why couldn't he leave him alone? He had asked for Kurt's forgiveness and Kurt had told him he was forgiven. Why couldn't he just accept that and move on?

_Maybe he wants more, dear,_ the unwelcome voice piped up. Kurt, jolted by the words, almost lashed out at the mirror but caught himself as he glared at his reflection_. I didn't ask you,_ he snarled internally. _I don't care what he wants, he's not going to get it!_

_We'll see,_ the smug sound of his mental voice irked him and he flounced back into his bedroom and threw himself onto it.

_Ugh, I must be going mad, arguing with myself,_ he thought as he once again stared at the ceiling. He glanced down at the handset still on the bed and then hung up the phone properly. _He better not call me back,_ he muttered now as he settled down again. Sleep was definitely shot to hell now and he grabbed the remote to turn on his TV.

He sighed as an interminable infomercial played on the screen and relaxed gradually as he allowed himself to be distracted by the wonders of a garden hose that miraculously rolled itself up after use.

He yawned as one boring commercial played after another and as his eyelids drooped, he thought to himself, _Hmmm, maybe I should take Henri up on that offer he was _not_ making_. He smiled to himself, the last thing on his mind a scene of him dressed in an elaborately curled powdered wig, a black beauty spot beside his mouth. _Monsieur Pompadour_, he giggled sleepily, hmmm, _that could work_… and he finally drifted into sleep.

On the other coast, as the hours ticked towards midnight, Noah was throwing clothes into his suitcase. His poor PR person, who had no doubt been in bed with her husband, had been given the task of getting him the earliest flight possible to New York.

When she called him back with the necessary information, he smiled grimly. If Kurt thought he was going to give up, he clearly had forgotten that he was Puck. He didn't know what would happen when he got to the Big Apple but he had to do something.

Kurt Hummel was one regret that Noah was going to address… permanently.

.

**TBC**

.

**PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU ENJOYED THIS**


	8. Chapter 8

**The Escort**

**Chapter Eight**

By Kurtofsky4eva

* * *

**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM.

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

* * *

The phone rang and Kurt stared at it blankly. His doorman's voice was reassuring until he heard the words, _"A gentleman says he has to see you."_

Kurt gaped stupidly at the phone. It was only 10:30 and he very rarely had visitors in the morning. He asked the doorman for the 'gentleman's name.

_"He says it's Puckerman, sir."_

Kurt felt the blood rushing from his brain and he sat down abruptly. When he heard the doorman's repeated, _"Sir, sir?"_ he snapped out of it and spoke slowly.

"Uhm, thank you, Carlton; could you send him up, please?"

Kurt stared outside as he hung up the phone slowly. Noah was here; but how_ when? It slowly dawned on him that the stubborn man must have got a flight from L.A. immediately after Kurt had hung up on him.

He sat there and didn't move until he heard his doorbell and then he dragged himself tiredly to answer it. He flung the door open and stared at Noah, taking in the other man's haggard appearance. He looked down at the bag in his hand and then back up into the dark, pleading eyes.

"Come in," he said tersely as he stepped back, shutting the door abruptly as Noah shuffled inside. "I have some coffee left. Have you eaten as yet?"

He turned as Noah didn't answer but he saw his nod and he headed for his well-appointed kitchen, muttering to himself as he went. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Noah moved over to his French windows to stare outside. They said nothing; Kurt simply fixed a sandwich, got the coffee and brought them over to the coffee table.

When he set them down he looked at Noah's rigid back. "I'm going to get dressed. Come and eat," and he marched off to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door before he slumped against it.

Outside, Noah turned slowly and looked at the sandwich and coffee. He was so tired but he was also hungry. He took a seat and a sip of the hot beverage, feeling his body relax and he sighed. He knew Kurt was probably furious with him but he felt as if he had to come; he had to see him, if only for a little while.

By the time Kurt came back out, dressed in the most casual clothes Noah had seen him in recently, Noah had finished the food and felt marginally better. He took a quick look at Kurt's implacable face and stared back down into the coffee mug.

"You can have a shower if you want to… in fact, I strongly suggest it." Kurt's voice was soft but there was a steely undertone and Noah knew if he wanted a chance, he would do whatever Kurt said.

"Mmm, okay, thanks," he said now, his voice hoarse and he kept his eyes down as he retrieved his bag and moved past Kurt into the bedroom. He didn't close the door but moved straight towards the _en suite_, trying his best not to stare at Kurt's bed.

Was this where he entertained his 'clients' or did he go to their place, Noah thought, wincing at himself as the thoughts came unexpectedly. He didn't want to think of Kurt's profession; he never wanted to think of Kurt doing what he no doubt did so well. His heart couldn't take it.

He went into the bathroom, shed his travel-stained clothes quickly and stepped into the huge, glass-enclosed shower. He'd remembered to take his products with him into the shower because there was no way in hell he was going to come out smelling like Kurt. His libido couldn't handle it.

Out in the living room, Kurt cleared away Noah's breakfast things and occupied himself with washing them, his mind in a whirl at the thought of the man in his shower. If anyone happened upon them now, the intimacy would seem self-explanatory. Yet, this was far from being the romantic, morning after that it parodied.

He put away the things after he'd dried them and went over to his _secretaire_, going through his appointment book in a bid to keep his mind from wandering to Noah in his bathroom. The man had only gotten better looking over the years and Kurt was not immune, much as he wished it were so.

Finally, he heard the bathroom door open and he hurried to stand in front of the French windows, trying to act more casually than he felt. He turned to look over his shoulder when Noah came out of his bedroom and wished he hadn't.

Noah had dressed hurriedly, barely drying himself and now Kurt could see the tee shirt clinging to damp spots on the muscled torso. He spun back around to look down at the bustling city and cursed himself for being susceptible to Noah's looks. _Damn, that man is fine!_ the voice in his head taunted. _Shut the fuck up, _he retorted.

"Uhm, thanks, Kurt, the shower really helped," Noah murmured now as he stood uncertainly in the middle of the living room. Kurt, after that one glimpse, refused to turn around and Noah was beginning to feel his spirits dip again as he watched him.

"You're welcome, I suppose," Kurt muttered and then he said, more loudly, "Are you going to tell me what this is about? After I told you we had nothing to say – you clearly decided not to listen to me…"

Noah sat on the couch and rubbed both hands through his damp hair. Kurt had a right to be pissed with him. Now that he was here, he couldn't imagine what the hell he'd been thinking.

"Look," he began but paused as he really didn't know what to say. "I… uhm, I don't know what I was thinking," he admitted, his voice soft and husky.

Kurt felt an unbidden twinge of sympathy for him; he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Noah so tormented. He hated to think he was the cause of it – and yet his heart wanted to believe that he _was_ the cause of it.

He moved over to sit in the armchair nearest the couch and he stared at the bent head, biting his lips as he repressed the urge to touch him, to comfort him. "Noah, what do you want from me? I've said I've forgiven you. What else is there?"

When Noah didn't reply immediately he sighed and continued. "I'm sorry for what I said the last time… it was wrong."

They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Noah raised his head to look at him, a soft smile pulling at his full lips. Instead of speaking, though, he reached over and took one of Kurt's soft hands into his, playing with his fingers as he looked down at them.

"You had a right to be angry with me, I know. I don't hold it against you…" he smiled, still looking at their hands together. The contrast of their skin tones was intriguing; in fact, ever since he'd met Kurt, all those years back in school, Kurt's looks had fascinated him. He hadn't been attracted to him from way back then; he just hadn't known anyone else who looked quite like the pixie-looking kid who wore funny clothes.

"You're beautiful, you know."

The four words dropped into the silence and just laid there, neither man looking at the other as the vibration of the sounds of the words rippled to the corners of the room. The moment was surreal and finally, Kurt took a deep breath and asked, "Why?"

Noah's head came up and a slight furrow appeared between his dark brows. His lips quirked as he stared at Kurt before replying, "Damn, you're a real challenge, y'know?" When Kurt simply raised an eyebrow at him and waited silently, Noah continued, shaking his head.

"Most people would just say, 'thank you' but you ask 'why'…" he grinned and something seemed to relax around his eyes as he stared at Kurt, taking in every feature. He still held his hand but had stopped playing with the fingers; Kurt hadn't seemed to realize that Noah still had his hand in his.

Noah's voice softened as he looked back at the hand. "I remember when I first saw you; I didn't know what you were." He felt Kurt trying to withdraw his hand but he held it firmly. "I asked my mom about pixies; she laughed and said they weren't real and I told her that there was a kid at school who looked like the pixies in the storybooks."

Kurt rolled his eyes and huffed slightly, unwillingly amused by Noah's tale. "Okay, I know, pointed ears, pointed nose – at least you're original and didn't say elf."

Noah chuckled and squinted at him with a smirk before admitting, "Well, that was my second choice, but she shot that one down, too. When I told her your name, though, she remembered you… your mom, actually."

Kurt succeeded in pulling his hand away and he looked off, out towards the balcony and the outlines of the city's skyline in the distance. His mom used to be a touchy subject with him when he was little; he was much older now and the pain had receded. Still, it brought back unwelcome feelings with Noah sitting here, reminiscing about their early days.

"Yeah, not many people remembered my mom. She died when I was eight…" He bit his lip as he glanced back at Noah. "Is your mom… is she okay?"

Noah nodded and smiled softly. "Yeah, she's not too happy with the graphic stuff in my books, though. I think she read the first one, freaked out and now refuses to even look at the covers of the others."

They laughed together and Kurt realized they had that in common; their parents didn't really approve of what they did, though they were happy that they were successful. _It must be a thing with parents, _he thought as he subconsciously relaxed in the lightened atmosphere.

Noah suddenly turned towards Kurt, startling him slightly but all he said was, "I would like to kiss you."

What the_? Where the fuck had that come from?!

Kurt stared at Noah as if he'd said he was visiting from the Betelgeuse system, his blue-green eyes wide and his draw dropped. His mouth wasn't exactly hanging open but it was a near thing. "Wh-what?" His stutter just had to return but he was too confused to even care.

Noah dropped his head and sighed. "God, Kurt, I don't know what it is; when I'm around you I turn into the biggest idiot!"

Kurt inched away from him warily; he would never admit, even on pain of death, that his heart had leapt when Noah had uttered those nonsensical words. There was no way that he and Noah could even go down that road without one or both of them getting hurt. He cleared his throat, tried to calm his breathing and then spoke calmly.

"Noah, how do you go from talking about our parents to – I would like to kiss you!" By the time he'd finished he was a lot louder than he'd started. Although his voice had deepened slightly over the years, right now he sounded just as he did in high school. He'd also got to his feet, a fact he didn't realize until Noah was standing almost toe-to-toe in front of him.

"Kurt, chill! I don't know why I said that; I really don't!"

They stared at each other and things would probably have resolved itself sensibly if Noah's eyes hadn't dropped to Kurt's parted lips. Maybe if Kurt hadn't licked them just then, he could have escaped.

As it was, Noah drew a ragged breath and surged forward, his hands sliding around Kurt's waist, his hands scorching a path on Kurt's skin as he dragged him towards him.

"Noah, don't!"

The rest of what he would have said was lost as firm, full lips descended on his and Kurt's hands came up to shove Noah away. Well, that was the intention. Kurt would later blame it on his sleepless night and Noah's confusion but his hands slid their way up the really firm chest and found themselves tangled in the hair at his nape.

He opened for Noah's insistent tongue and the other man swallowed his soft moan greedily. Noah's hardening cock pressed into Kurt's lower belly and another sound, this one needier, escaped Kurt.

Noah explored Kurt's mouth and Lewis and Clark had nothing on him in that department. Every inch of Kurt's mouth was tasted, savored and catalogued. Noah's hands alternately slipped up under Kurt's loose shirt and then down over his amazing, jeans-clad ass. When his hands tightened on the firm butt, he pulled Kurt closer, grinding his cock into the other man and groaning raggedly.

Kurt tore his mouth away to breathe, his eyes almost blind with passion as his head tipped back on the long stem of his neck. Noah, ever the opportunist, went with it and nibbled and sucked on the pale, throbbing throat. Kurt was so beautiful, every part of him was beautiful to Noah and he, unaware that he was muttering the word over and over, only wanted to glut himself in it.

"So beautiful…" The words finally penetrated the sexual haze that had fallen over Kurt and he became aware of what they were doing. He breathed hard, finally managing to do what he had intended in the first place and eased Noah gently away from him. He ignored the pout on the lust-filled face and took a step back, raising a shaky hand to smooth his hair from his forehead.

Kurt turned away from the sight of Noah, standing there all dark and sexy and hard and he gazed out at the city as he caught his breath. Finally, when he was able, he turned to look at the other man.

He raised a hand as Noah moved toward him, stopping him in his tracks. "No, please." He breathed deeply before looking at him with pleading eyes. "Noah, you can't do this to me. You're not gay – you're not even bi… I don't think you've ever been with another man, have you?"

Noah tried to hold his gaze, to be firm and assuring but his eyes fell and he stared at the floor. He shoved his hands into his pockets and then sighed deeply.

"Kurt, I've never felt this way for anyone – male or female. Don't you get it?"

Kurt stared at him, wanting to believe him but fearing for his heart. He steeled himself, willing his high color to subside and said as firmly as he could, "Noah, you know nothing about me – about what I do." He took a shuddering breath and looked away from the dark, beautiful eyes looking at him so longingly. He walked over to stand by the French windows.

"Noah, you want a fairytale ending to this… this attraction… and it can't happen. Life doesn't work that way."

He blinked rapidly and turned his face away as he felt Noah come up behind him. They stood there for maybe seconds, it could have been minutes but, all too soon, Kurt felt a warm, strong hand land on his shoulder, pulling him around.

He looked up at Noah, taking in the way the sunlight brightened his always tanned skin and threw specks of green into prominence in his brown eyes. The lashes were thick, unexpectedly shiny and Kurt knew he was in trouble… deep trouble. Noah's face was so etched on his mind that Kurt could even recognize that that tiny scar beside his right eyebrow had not been there eight years before.

Noah smiled at the way Kurt was drinking him in. His lips might be saying all the sensible words but his eyes were saying something different. Kurt had feelings for him, deeper than even he had thought possible but he would have to tread carefully. If it was one thing he knew about Kurt from even way back when, it was that he was impossibly stubborn. Noah knew, though, that he would move heaven and earth to get Kurt to trust him and his feelings. Kurt guarded his heart like a dragon its egg and he remembered enough about Harry Potter's adventures to know that one needed guts and determination to take on a mother dragon.

He smiled now at his fanciful thoughts and he watched as Kurt's pupils dilated. Next he knew he was devouring Kurt's mouth, pushing the slimmer man against the wall beside the French window and sliding a knee between his legs. Kurt wasn't hard, not yet, but the way Noah's body ground into his, it was a foregone conclusion.

Kurt moaned and gave in to the onslaught, his legs widening automatically as Noah surged against him. _Oh god, he feels so good,_ Kurt's mind gibbered and then gave up the struggle. He couldn't think, only feel and he kissed Noah back, giving him everything … and more.

Things would have continued onto its inevitable, sticky conclusion if the phone hadn't rung… and rung… and rung… until the answering machine clicked on. Their minds barely registered the sound of Kurt's sensual voice saying the standard words about messages and recordings until…

"_Ah, mon cher, I was hoping you'd answer. I can't wait to pick you up tomorrow night; make yourself extra beautiful… I want you to meet someone special. __Être bien, mon bien-aimé!_

If cold water had been thrown over them, the mood could not have cooled any faster. Kurt stared as shutters seemed to fall over Noah's face and his heart fell as well. Kurt straightened away from him, surreptitiously adjusted himself in his jeans as Noah turned away and sighed.

"Well," he said now as he moved past Noah to the kitchen. "That takes care of that."

Noah stared at his retreating back, his mind and body still struggling to deal with its aborted mission. He was still hard but he was beginning to get angry; he was also pissed off with himself for getting angry. He had no right to be upset; he knew what Kurt's job was. Kurt had been remarkably blunt and upfront about everything. He rubbed his hands through his hair and sat again on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Finally he looked up at the sound of Kurt banging about in the kitchen.

Kurt was furious with himself for getting carried away with Noah, forgetting the words he himself had just spoken. This was no goddamn fairytale; there was no happily ever after for them. No matter what happened, he and Noah were not a good fit. Despite his past as a teenage man whore, Noah would never be able to deal with Kurt's current lifestyle. Even if he gave it up so they could be together, the first time they had a quarrel it would be thrown up at him. Oh, yes, Kurt knew just how people thought, even when their lips – and sometimes cocks – said something else.

"Look, Kurt, I_"

"No, don't say a damn word, Noah! Not now… When you're ready, you can le-eave." Kurt was horrified as his voice broke on the last word.

Noah leapt to his feet, reaching Kurt's side so swiftly it almost startled Kurt. Still, Noah was nervous about touching Kurt when he was angry. He had to do something though so he went to the refrigerator, opened the door and looked for what he needed. He grabbed the wine bottle, barely looking at the label and then searched through cupboards until he found the wine glasses. He poured two glasses for himself and Kurt and then held his out to him.

Kurt had turned away so Noah wouldn't see his tears so, of course, he didn't see the proffered wine glass. When Noah's arms suddenly went around him, Kurt shuddered, not in passion this time but because the tears just erupted from him.

Noah held him and soothed him as he would a child; although his body thrilled to the nearness of Kurt's, Kurt's distress was the only thing that registered in his mind. Finally, with one last sniff, Kurt straightened away from him, saw the wineglass and took it up. After swallowing a hefty amount, Kurt turned to glare at Noah from pink-rimmed eyes.

"I hate that you do this to me…"

"Kurt…" but he was stopped by Kurt's imperious hand and a glare that could strip paint.

"No, it's not really your fault, I know." Kurt bit his lips, folded his arm and dangled the wine glass from one hand before lifting it to sip the cold wine. In fact, he drained the glass and poured himself some more before moving from the kitchen to the living room. He stopped beside the table with the phone on it and stared at it.

Noah followed more slowly and when Kurt stopped by the phone, Noah looked at it, too. Right now the phone was the unfortunate symbol of all that was wrong with their situation. The message that had just been left embodied everything that Noah was going to have to fight against… if he really wanted Kurt.

Did he really want Kurt? That was the thing. Did he really want … or could he handle all that it meant to become Kurt's lover? That was what was swirling in the air between them right now. He had no doubt that that was what Kurt was thinking about… and probably coming to the conclusion that Noah would bail on him.

Suddenly, Noah moved past Kurt, took his wine glass and put it on the table along with his. He took Kurt's hands in his and stared into the wide blue eyes seriously.

"It's my turn to speak now and you're going to listen." He saw the storm gathering in Kurt's blue eyes and watched the pout beginning to form on the tempting lips. Noah smiled unexpectedly and when Kurt looked at him in surprise, he chuckled.

"You have no idea how fuckable you are when you pout, do you?" He grinned when Kurt frowned as color brightened his fair cheeks. "Anyway, as I was about to tell you: I don't care what hurdles you want me to jump over; I don't care how you handle _your_ 'business', I want you."

Kurt's eyes widened and hope, that bitch, took up residence in his heart again. Still, he hesitated, his practical mind warring with his rapidly beating heart. He didn't get to voice his doubts yet, though, because Noah continued, moving closer so that his warm breath wafted over Kurt's lips.

"You are worth fighting for, Kurt, I know that. I have always known that but until I got my head on right, I couldn't see that. Earlier I said you were beautiful; I meant that in every way. Your spirit is as beautiful as your outside. You are talented – far more than this stupid society realizes – and you are so much more than your 'profession'."

Kurt breathed deeply, feeling the stupid tears prickling again and he nodded as Noah paused.

Noah continued, his eyes roving slowly over the flustered man before him. "I don't know how the logistics are going to work, with you here and me back home but we will make it work. I want to make it work… Do you?"

Kurt was startled by the sudden question; he had almost lapsed into a trance at the steady, passionate cadence of Noah's voice and the question jerked him to attention. He frowned.

"Do I what_? Want you? Want to make this work?"

Noah nodded, hope in his eyes and warming his face. He held his breath as Kurt stared at him.

Kurt's walls had been crumbling bit by bit, ever since the phone call in the early hours of the morning. They had swayed, dust falling from the crumbling masonry when Noah had turned up looking so wretched only hours later. Now they lay, shattered at his feet and he stood on the rubble, gathering all his courage around him before he answered.

"Yes, yes, Noah, I want this… I want you."

For seconds Noah stood there like a fool, staring at Kurt and it was only when he saw the soft smile growing in the most beautiful blue eyes that he released the breath he had been holding. He yanked Kurt to him in a bear hug, ignoring the little 'eep' that escaped the other man and kissed his face over and over.

"Thank you, thank you, Kurt; you won't regret it, thank you!"

Kurt's laughter was soft and breathy as his arms went around Noah's waist to hold him tightly. He felt Noah still pressing kisses to his thick hair and he chuckled louder at his silliness.

_God help him if he breaks my heart again_, Kurt thought but without much heat as he held on to him.

For his part, Noah felt as if a weight he'd been carrying for eight years had been suddenly lifted and he could breathe properly for the first time. For the first time, too, he had a boyfriend… and wasn't that a kick in the pants?

He laughed at himself as his body quickened at the thought of Kurt as his boyfriend. He had not looked at any man over all those years simply because they weren't Kurt. He didn't think he would tell Kurt this, though, because he would become really big-headed, he just knew it.

When they finally pulled back to smile somewhat shyly at each other, Kurt knew it really was time to pull out from under the shadow of that eight-year-old incident. He had forgiven Noah and from the way Noah was looking at him, he would spend the next however long they had, making it up to him.

Kurt's future had so many possible branches opening up ahead of him and as he pulled Noah towards the couch, he knew he would tell him about his conversation with Henri and later the one with his future business partner, his current manager.

Maybe Noah wouldn't have to struggle with Kurt's current 'profession'. If they planned things right, Noah just might relocate to New York; after all, he could write anywhere and if the movie people continued devouring his books the way they had, everything should work out.

In less than a month, Kurt had lifted the burden of an old hurt and found a gorgeous lover in the bargain. He was not naïve enough to think there wouldn't be bumps along the road. Heck, he and Noah were both headstrong, passionate men. They had love, though, and he promised himself that he would never push Noah away again, no matter how volcanic things became.

Life was so very unpredictable… but so was love.

.

…..

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**A/N: Epilogue to come - and I hope you all enjoyed my little story.**

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	9. Chapter 9

**The Escort**

**Chapter Nine - Epilogue**

By Kurtofsky4eva

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**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM. COMPLETE.

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this story and took the time to review and PM me. I appreciated all of the feedback, even the ones that expressed surprise at Kurt's 'profession'. It was written all in good fun and I know many of you enjoyed it. Thanks. **_**J.**_

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.

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**TWO MONTHS LATER:**

"Don't move… don't… move!"

Sweat streamed down his face, his eyes scrunched closed and his mouth hung open as he tried to pull enough air into his lungs. God, Kurt felt so good, so tight around him!

Kurt, his chest rising and falling rapidly and flushed to his hairline, stared down avidly at the gorgeous man whose cock he was riding. His eyelids fluttered as he sat still, not moving as instructed and then he smirked wickedly. Clenching interior muscles, he let out a burble of laughter as his lover groaned and threw back his head.

"Kurt! I said…" but Kurt cut him off. "I didn't move, did I!" and laughed again in that throaty way that always went straight to Noah's groin.

Large hands gripped Kurt's sweet hips tightly and Noah gritted his teeth as he raised his head to glare at his smirking lover.

"If you don't want this to be over too soon, you'll behave!"

Kurt pouted… and then lifted up so that Noah slid out of him almost all the way. He watched as his lover's eyes widened in panic… and then grinned as he slammed down on him again.

"Kurt, oh Jesus! Ugh, are you trying to kill me?!"

Kurt didn't answer but he did that circling thing with his hips, his strong thigh muscles bunching and releasing, making Noah pant as the sensations ripped through him.

After that, Kurt got down to the business of riding his lover to a mind-blowing, back-straining climax, their voices going hoarse and their hands clenching together almost painfully.

Kurt finally slumped forward onto Noah, heedless of the sticky mess between them as usual and winced as Noah's spent cock slipped from him. He shuddered through the feeling and then placed a drowsy, sated kiss against Noah's slack mouth.

Noah ran his hands through Kurt's thick, damp hair and gazed up at the ceiling, his breathing gradually slowing as their bodies calmed.

Kurt shifted after a minute or so, tilting his head up to gaze into Noah's half-lidded eyes. "You know we're going to be glued together if we don't move soon, right?"

Noah smirked at him, one eyebrow rising puckishly. "But we're already stuck with each other, aren't we, babe?"

Kurt gaped at him in disbelief and then slapped him quick and sharp on one tight bicep.

"Ow, what was that for?" Noah leaned away slightly and pouted at Kurt.

Kurt smirked at him before settling his head back onto his chest. "That was for the truly awful pun you just made, Mr. Big-time Author!"

His head bounced as Noah chuckled. "Yeah, well, I hadn't used it before and it seemed to fit, didn't it."

Kurt murmured something that Noah didn't quite catch but he knew it was something sarcastic.

He and Kurt had settled into a domestic routine that, years before, Noah would have thought would bore him silly. Things had been the kind of normal that made Noah's heart feel full… and he couldn't think of anything more that he wanted.

He had everything he could ever need in Kurt and his writing. Living with Kurt was an eye-opener because he'd thought that life was good before. Now Kurt added an extra layer, a zing to his life that he hadn't even realized was missing.

He had surprised himself by even being cool about Kurt's 'profession'. That's not to say he wasn't glad when Kurt told him about what his manager had suggested. 'Retiring' and going into business was a great move but Noah was smart enough not to say that. Kurt was as touchy as he remembered him from school and Noah knew that if he'd commented one way or another, Kurt would have taken it as a criticism.

Kurt was gorgeous and sexy and brilliant and Noah was just happy that he'd forgiven him his youthful stupidity. He couldn't help but imagine Kurt with nameless, faceless individuals at times but he never let it screw with his head. He had Kurt in his life and in his bed and he knew he was the luckiest guy on the planet.

He planned to spend every day that he could, making up for being such a dick all those years ago. Thankful that Kurt was such a generous, loving individual, Noah did everything he could think of to show Kurt he was a different person. He was no longer Puck, really; over the years he had grown into Noah and he was proud of his achievement.

He had also continued writing the special novel that he'd started; he'd yet to tell Kurt what it was about. He wanted it to be a surprise and the dedication in the front of it would definitely do that. He couldn't wait to see Kurt's expression when he read it.

He hadn't come up with a title for it as yet but it was basically a novelization of his and Kurt's life. It was a huge departure from his usual fare and he wondered briefly how his fans would take it. He didn't really care if it never made any money; it was something he wanted to do for Kurt and that was all that mattered.

It served a secondary purpose, too. For years he had been writing the popular stories that fans just gobbled up and movie studios fought like dogs over for the rights to film. He had always wondered if he had another type of book in him and when this whole thing with Kurt popped up, he took it as the chance to try and write something different.

Kurt Hummel was everything and more that Noah could want or need and now, as he tugged gently on the thick strands of hair, some of which was tickling his nose, he breathed deeply and then sighed.

Kurt raised his head again and looked at Noah. "What's up? You're quiet."

Noah smiled back and then, slipping his arms around him, pulled Kurt up a bit so that he could kiss him deeply. He felt Kurt hum into the kiss and then they pulled apart, smiling.

Pushing back the hank of hair that had flipped forward onto Kurt's broad, pale forehead, Noah answered, "I've been thinking… about us."

Kurt smiled. "Yeah, what about us?"

Noah paused and then shrugged. "Well, just that we can go through life not realizing that something was missing … and then you have it … and afterward you can't imagine how you ever managed before."

Kurt stared at Noah, slightly stunned. His blue eyes gleamed and then he leaned up and placed a soft kiss against Noah's smiling mouth.

"I know just what you mean, babe. We could have gone on with our separate lives and never realized we were missing this."

They laid there for a good while, just soaking up the love and laughter that emanated from them so effortlessly these days. Sooner than they liked, though, they had to go and clean up.

That, of course, didn't mean the end of the fun for the night because, combining water, wandering hands and clinging lips, in no time they were once again making the room resonate to the escalating sounds of their enthusiastic loving.

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**oOo**

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**THREE MONTHS LATER:**

"So, Puckerman, you love my son, eh?"

Noah, published author and lover of Kurt Hummel, the most beautiful ex-escort ever, felt himself pale as he looked at the other man.

"Yes? Ugh, I mean," and he cleared his throat. "Yes, I do, sir."

Burt glared at him and while Noah was years away from the punk Burt remembered from Kurt's high school days, he couldn't say he was impressed.

"Right… and you are some big-shot writer now, too, I hear." His eyes roved over Noah who sat with his hands hanging between his legs, trying to look un-intimidated by his lover's father.

How the hell could he have reached this age and still be scared of old Burt Hummel? That's because he still looks like he wants to kick your ass, that's why.

Noah shook his head to get rid of the taunting voice. "Yeah, and screenplays, too. Um, have you seen any of my…" his voice trailed off as he watched Burt's light blue eyes narrow at him. "Ugh, right, that would be a 'no', then."

Suddenly a voice came from the kitchen. "Burt, stop trying to scare the boy; what's wrong with you!?"

Noah had always loved Carole Hudson, well Hummel for the past 10 years, and now he was so thankful for her presence.

It had been Kurt's idea to come to Ohio for a visit; they had been together for nearly five months and thought it high time the folks saw them together. He hadn't minded the idea of it; he just hadn't realized they would be staying at the Hudson-Hummel residence for the duration of their visit!

Carole came out of the kitchen looking flushed and pretty and Noah smiled at her. He had always had a way with the moms; it was the dads who had always looked at him as if they wished they had a shotgun. God, things hadn't changed much, had they?

He stood up to help her with the platter that she was transferring to the dining room table and intercepted a look from Burt that clearly said: suck-up!

Noah repressed a smile and decided that, for the rest of his stay, he would avoid Burt as much as possible and stick to Carole and Kurt. He wasn't too proud to hide behind them because Burt made him feel like one night he would wake up to find him looming over him.

Just then the front door flew open and Kurt hustled in, his cheeks red and his eyes bright. Noah looked up from where Carole had directed him to place the platter with the roast and stared.

Kurt was wearing one of Noah's favorite coats; it was a brilliant sapphire blue and with Kurt's cheeks and lips red from the cold, he made the prettiest picture ever.

Carole made a surreptitious signal to Burt who looked up to watch Noah staring at his son… and that was a revelation.

Burt had never seen anyone look at Kurt like that, ever. He was embarrassed to admit he felt a prickling in his nose because he suspected that that was how he used to look at Kurt's mother, his first wife. He had felt, every time she entered the room, that he was the luckiest bastard on God's green earth and now the look on Puckerman's face was saying the very same thing.

In the buzz of Kurt's greeting to his parents and Carole's questioning her stepson as to the things he'd just picked up at the store for her, Burt admitted to himself that he really had nothing to worry about.

Kurt was in good hands if Puckerman continued to look at him like that.

He cleared his throat and turned to his wife, a small smile on his face. "So, can we eat now?!"

Carole laughed and rolled her eyes but she understood her husband very well. She said yes, they would, as soon as Kurt washed up quickly and chuckled as Burt turned impatient eyes on his son.

Kurt giggled, his arms around Noah and conceded, "Okay, okay! I'll be right back…" and with a quick peck on Noah's cheek, dashed off up the stairs.

Burt turned to look at Puckerman who was watching Kurt's ass as he skipped upstairs and he couldn't hold back his own eye-roll. Carole narrowed her eyes at him so he didn't say anything, just heaved himself up out of the armchair and moved towards the dining table.

Noah, sensing a lightening in Burt's attitude upon Kurt's return, remained in the living room to wait for his beautiful lover. God, just the sight of Kurt made his blood feel like he had champagne in his veins. Years of writing had left him with a propensity for thinking things like that but he smirked to himself as he mentally kicked his butt. He would lose his badass membership card if he ever even said anything like that out loud.

Kurt returned just as Noah was smirking to himself and slid into his arms, his lips coming to rest softly against his lover's. They stood like that for maybe three seconds before…

"Hey, hey, none o' that! I'm starving!"

Kurt pulled back and grinned at Noah. "You see what you'll be taking on? Love me, love my family."

Noah hugged him quickly before stepping back to grab his hand and whisper: "Even if you came with two Pekingese and a Chihuahua, I'd still love you."

Kurt's eyes glowed at him and he threw back his head, his laughter preceding them as they joined his parents. His Noah had a way with words… among other things… and he was immensely glad he'd taken a chance on him.

Trusting that Noah loved him as he said he did had not been easy for Kurt in the five months they had been together. When the news had somehow broken that they were an item, the press had been relentless. Kurt was used to the lenses of the paparazzi on him and so too was Noah to an extent but the media circus had been vicious and tiring.

Throughout it all, Noah had handled everything with the kind of laissez-faire that had made him the youngest stud in Lima, Ohio. Kurt had watched the way he'd handled interviews and it had almost been a test of Noah's loyalty and stamina. When he had invited Kurt to walk the red carpet with him for his newest movie's premiere, Kurt had known then.

Noah was his for the long haul and if anyone – any of the Bible-thumping, middle American, so-called moral majority had a problem with their liaison, Kurt had just one thing to say:

Screw 'em!

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**Fin**

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